


Space Cowboy

by Hylophobic



Series: The Space Cowboy Saga [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Relationship, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Awkward Flirting, Betaed, Blood and Injury, Families of Choice, Feelings, How Do I Tag, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Paz is bad at feelings, Raga Ships It, Raga has the one brain cell, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 57,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22927705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylophobic/pseuds/Hylophobic
Summary: Paz was pissed. Honestly, at this point Paz was so far beyond pissed that he had somehow circled back around to a state of extreme calm. It was almost surreal, almost meditative in a way, like standing in the eye of a storm.Paz is having a bad day but, after meeting an interesting mechanic, things are starting to look up.
Relationships: Corin the Stormtrooper (Rescue and Regret)/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Paz Vizla/Jon (Hylophobic)
Series: The Space Cowboy Saga [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1681876
Comments: 153
Kudos: 299
Collections: Movies





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to my wonderful beta reader, WizardMoonwhisper!
> 
> I love you! 💙

Paz was pissed. Honestly, at this point Paz was so far beyond pissed that he had somehow circled back around to a state of extreme calm. It was almost surreal, almost meditative in a way, like standing in the eye of a storm.

It was only a few days after the attack on the covert. The heavy infantryman had managed to actually survive the ambush with relatively few injuries, even after he'd done his best to cause as much damage to the Imperial forces as he could to draw their ire from the rest of the tribe. His ship, however, had not been so lucky in the aftermath of his own escape from Nevarro. It was left battered, scorched, and leaking not only fuel but several other unidentifiable, though Paz assumed very important, liquids. It had endured a handful of jumps, each causing something within the ship to screech horribly (he really hoped it wasn't the hull) and the control panel to spark, before he was forced to land or risk exploding mid-jump. He was now on some no-name planet hoping, probably in vain, to find someone capable enough to fix the damage. If he was being honest with himself though, upon seeing the state of the ship after landing, it would probably be a miracle if the old girl flew again.

So now he found himself standing at the service counter of the only hanger in this kriffing, backwater town while the few mechanics this planet had to offer huddled in the back of the shop, too afraid of the massive Mandalorian to show themselves. Normally, the heavy gunner would find some amusement out of this whole scenario, but he was tired, sore and desperately wanted to get back in the air to hopefully track down whatever remained of the covert. So, all-in-all Paz was pissed and only getting more so the longer he stood waiting.

With an agitated snarl, he was just about to round the desk and go looking for one of the terrified workers when he heard a new voice over the panicked whispers from the back room.

“Wha-what in the name of… What are y’all doin’?”

This voice didn’t sound scared, just… confused? That accent was interesting though, and not one Paz could remember ever hearing before. Words seemed to flow together into a lazy drawl, while some letters seemed to be missing entirely.

“Shut up!”

“Now don't go gettin' uppity with me, Marvis. I was just askin’ a question…”

“There's a bounty hunter out there… massive bloke. We don't wan-”

“Wait a hot minute,” the new voice sounded affronted, raising in volume even as the others tried to shush him. “Are ya tellin’ me there’s a customer out there and none of ya have even greeted ‘im?”

There was a beat of silence in which Paz found himself trying to stifle a bout of laughter. Whoever this person was now had the Mandalorian’s interest if they valued  _ manners, _ of all things, over their own safety.

“Y’all are just  _ rude _ ,” the voice hissed out in a huff.

The Mandalorian did let out a chuckle at that, certainly entertained at this new turn of events. He also found himself wondering how someone could put that kind of inflection on an innocent word like 'rude' to make it sound like a curse. Well, this should prove interesting at least.

A moment later Paz heard footsteps approaching, along with the terrified murmurs of 'get back here', 'are you insane', 'he'll kill you' from the others cowering in the back. A door off to the right, nearly hidden behind a few crates of miscellaneous parts, opened and figure stepped into view.

And, honestly, Paz wasn't sure what he had been expecting but it wasn't a slim, nearly scrawny, male human with light brown hair, a few days' worth of scruff on his face, and pale green eyes. The man wasn't short by any means (probably an inch taller than Din) but compared to the impressive form of the Mandalorian, you could be forgiven for thinking that. Still, the guy had a fire in those green eyes, a fire that dulled just a bit when they landed on Paz. The man froze mid-step, pausing in an instant to stare up at the infantryman, taken aback by the sheer size of this 'customer'.

"Uh, hi there," the mechanic gave a small wave in greeting after shaking off his surprise, still looking a bit nervous but making the effort to at least push past it. "I- uh. I apologize fer the wait. I'm Jon, by the way. Wha-, um, what can do fer ya?"

Paz blinked down at the mechanic like he was some rare, new species. To be fair, Jon might just be something entirely new and undiscovered. The Mandalorian was so used to dealing with a rough, rowdy crowd of mercenaries and criminals that to meet someone with manners and a chipper attitude was so incredibly infrequent it left him feeling out of his element. It didn't help that Jon was… well, the word 'cute' came to mind.

"My ship needs repairs," Paz was able to force out after clearing his throat uncomfortably. 

He was thankful for his helmet in this moment. Feeling the slight rush of heat to his face after realizing that Jon had been waiting patiently for his response, and Paz had just been staring at him like some love-sick school girl.

"Well, you came to the right place," the brunette laughed, and Paz refused to acknowledge that the sound  _ did _ things to his stomach. "Let me just grab a couple of things then ya can show me what ya got."

  
  


It took them a better part of two hours to make it back to where Paz had been forced to set down outside of the town. The journey had not passed in nervous silence like he had predicted, but rather, Jon had held an impressive, nearly one-sided conversation the entire time. The mechanic didn't seem to take offense to the fact that Paz had not given his name during their initial greetings, and didn't seem to be fazed at all that the Mando only offered the occasional grunt in lieu of a reply.

At one point, Jon did trail off with a muttered apology looking a little ashamed. The mechanic explained that he tended to ramble and fell silent afterwards. Paz had surprised himself when he had automatically responded with a quick 'it's fine' but was immediately blessed with a bright, wide-eyed look of  _ awe _ from the smaller male, like no one had ever given him permission to  _ keep _ talking before. The rest of the trek Paz spent listening to the mechanic's continued chattering still a little stunned by the whole encounter.

Jon stopped talking when they got close to the ship and he was able to take in the extent of the damage. They paused a few meters away and the brunette let out a low whistle as he took in the sight.

"Holy-," the mechanic breathed out then whipped his head sharply towards the Mandalorian at his side, eyes roaming over the large figure.

It took Paz far too long to grasp that Jon was looking him over for injuries and, okay, if his heart could please stop beating like that, that would be great…

"Well, whatever happened at least ya got out of it in one piece, right? Come on, let's take a look and see what I got to work with."

The mechanic moved towards the gunship and Paz brought up the rear, trying hopelessly to quell the feeling of affection that was blooming in his chest towards the smaller man. 

_ It didn't matter _ , he kept trying to think,  _ he'll fix my ship then I'll be on my way… never to see him again. _

And,  _ fuck _ , if that didn't hurt to think about.

As it turned out, the damage wasn't as bad as Paz that thought it would be according to Jon.

"Now, don't get me wrong or nothin'. You're gonna be grounded for at least a day or two while I fix the fuel lines and replace that stabilizer… there's also the question of where that lubricant is leaking from… but it looks worse than it is," had been the cheerful response when Paz had asked for the final verdict after it seemed Jon was done accessing the ship.

After agreeing on a price, one that seemed a little too low for the amount of work being done, but Paz wasn't going to look a gift tauntaun in the mouth, Jon scribbled down a list of materials and they headed back into town. The mechanic offered to show the Mandalorian to an inn so he could get settled, but the offer was immediately turned down in favor of helping the smaller man collect his tools and supplies. Afterall, cute mechanic or no, Paz was in a hurry.

  
  


After it became clear that the Mandalorian wasn't interested in causing trouble the other mechanics finally showed themselves but by then the damage to whatever respect the heavy gunner might have had towards them had been done. Paz went as far as to completely ignore their very presence entirely, making no move to respond to any questions or attempts at conversation that didn't come directly from Jon. The smaller man merely rolled his eyes at the Mandalorian's antics, clearly amused and already comfortable in the larger man's company now.

Jon was obviously good at his job too. Paz couldn't help but think that his talents were being wasted in that tiny hanger because nearly a day later, the little terror in grease stained clothes had managed to patch his way through the majority of the ship. He'd stripped out any parts that sparked or looked too far gone to salvage, replaced the broken fuel line, rewired half of the control panel, and had even been successful in finding out where that pesky lubricant leak was coming from. He'd also given the hull a once over and found no real damage to speak of (Paz breathed a sigh of relief at the news). The only thing left was to fix the stabilizer, which Jon had explained would probably be the most difficult thing to replace.

"I saved the best fer last," he had joked after crawling out from under the ship, covered in oil and soot.

Okay, so maybe Paz was just a little in awe of this tiny spitfire of a man. It was totally  _ not _ a crush or anything, because he was a grown man. Grown men did not get crushes on random mechanics they had just met, right? Right.

Jon turned towards his tool bag and paused, glancing around the small clearing, evidently looking for something.

"What," the blue armored Mandalorian asked, shifting a little closer to the mechanic.

"One o' my tools is missin'. I must 'ave left it back at the shop. No biggie, I'll just run back real quick and grab it, then hopefully we can get this girl in the air," Jon shot Paz a quick smile and a wink (that did  _ not _ have Paz's mind going to a bad place) before dusting himself off and jogging back towards town, leaving the heavy infantryman alone with his thoughts.

  
  


It was nearing the five-hour mark before Paz started to worry. Well, he was already worried, but it was more for his own sanity than for the safety of his new companion. He kept replaying the last day over and over in his head. Trying to pinpoint the exact moment that he had developed… whatever this attraction was towards the mechanic. And maybe 'attraction' wasn't the right word though. True, the brunette was easy on the eyes, but Paz found he actually enjoyed having the man's company, so perhaps this wasn't just him needing a quick lay? Kriff, he was bad at this, and his thoughts only seemed to be going in circles.

He had been able to pass some of the time by cleaning and maintaining his armory, but with the steadily approaching dusk, the Mandalorian was getting antsy. Jon should have been back by now…

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he loaded up his gear and started back towards the hanger. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jon, he was surprised to discover he actually did trust the man quite a bit (it helped that Jon didn't seem to have a mean bone in his body), but something just didn't feel right about this whole thing. Deciding to air on the side of caution, the Mandalorian set out to locate his wayward mechanic.

He was glad he did go looking for the man in the end. He heard shouting and the sounds of a scuffle before he ever set foot inside the shop. Moving towards the doorway with as much stealth he could muster from his larger frame, Paz took point and listened. He could easily pick out Jon's voice, and from the sounds of it, he was having it out with the other mechanics.

"What in the hell are y'all thinkin'?! Wantin' to turn Mando in to the Imps? Really, the Imps?! Yer insane! I ain't gonna be a part of this-"

"The Imperials are offering good credits for any information about Mandalorians in this sector, Jon. Imagine what they'd pay if we  _ handed _ one over personally to them!"

"Are ya even listenin' to yer'self Marvis-"

"Where is he? You don't want the credits? Fine! All you have to do is tell us where to find his ship."

There was a moment of silence after that. When Jon finally answered Paz could barely hear him from his spot near the door, but there was no mistaking the clear growl and defiance in his mechanic's voice.

"I ain't tellin' you anythin'. I'd rather die than help the Imps-"

Jon's voice was cut off by a yelp and a sound of something solid falling to the ground.

"Restrain him. If he gets loose, he'll run back to that Mandalorian and spill everything to him!"

Paz had heard enough. So, these mechanics thought they could just hand him over to the Imperials that easily? With a growl, Paz made a final check of his gear and pulled out his blaster. It was time to get his errant mechanic back and get off this dust ball of a planet. 

He made a point of not thinking over the fact that his brain had dubbed Jon 'his mechanic'.

  
  


The fight, if you could even call it that, did not take long. In fact, the moment Paz stepped out of the shadow of the doorway, radiating barely restrained rage, all but one of the mechanics had tossed down whatever improvised weapons they had held and threw their hands up in surrender. Their leader, a chubby human with yellowing teeth, had sneered at the Mandalorian but was dealt with quickly enough with a solid right hook. The man went down hard and Paz turned towards the only other figure in the room without firing a single shot. 

Jon lay sprawled on the ground, face down in a tangled heap of his own limbs. What little of his face that was visible was covered in blood, the back of his head sporting a nasty looking gash that was still leaking lazily. Checking him over Paz found that Jon was, thankfully, still breathing just knocked unconscious but the amount of blood was concerning. As was the dark bruise blossoming over one of his eyes when Paz gently turned the man over to access the rest of his injuries. Without a second thought, the Mandalorian scooped him into his arms and made his way towards the door. He paused a moment at the exit, glancing back at the would-be bounty hunters and their still comatose ringleader. 

"If you follow me I will kill you… slowly," he snarled out, then stomped out of the hanger.

He was still seething as he advanced towards his ship. Angry at those aspiring bounty hunters for thinking they could best a Mandalorian and angry at himself for allowing Jon to go back into town alone. Angry at the man in his arms for, somehow, crawling his way under Paz's armor and making a home there. How in the name of Mandalore had this tiny mechanic wormed his way into his heart in less than a day?! This couldn't be healthy… there was something seriously wrong with Paz's brain…

That anger immediately fizzled out when he heard a groan from where the smaller man lay in his arms, causing the large Mandalorian to slow to a stop and glance down at his companion. Jon grimaced and with another grunt of pain finally pried his eyes open… and immediately slammed them closed again not 3 seconds later.

"So openin' my eyes after gettin' knocked upside the head wasn't my best idea. Good to know."

Paz snorted.

"And trying to take on 5 people hellbent on handing me over to the Imps was?"

"Never said I was smart," was the mumbled deadpan response, the Mandalorian snorted again despite himself but started moving towards the ship's ramp.

Once inside, Paz sat Jon down on the table in the area that passed for the ship's kitchen and turned to pull out the medical supplies. Luckily, he still had a good amount of bacta left. He just hoped it would be enough to heal the gash on the back of the mechanic's head. He really didn't want to have to try stitching his scalp back together if it wasn't. Once he had everything set out next to his 'patient' he started carefully cleaning away the still damp blood matting the brunette's hair.

A silence fell over the two men as Paz worked. Jon had finally managed to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds but flinched away from any light reflecting off the Mando's helmet. A quick check of his pupils confirmed one of Paz's suspicions.

"You have a concussion."

"Yeah, I figur'd… What happe'd to the others," the reply was slurred more heavily now, the adrenaline from the earlier events must have been wearing off.

Pair that with a head wound and the heavy gunner was impressed that the man could still hold a conversation much less remain conscious. 

"They didn't even try to put up a fight," Paz allowed his pout to filter into his voice when he replied, trying to keep the mood light. 

The amused smirk he got was worth the slight blow to his pride.

"They ain't trained hunters. Why the stars they thought they'd be able to best a Mandalorian is beyond me. I blame Marvis, he's always comin' up with these foolhardy plans. Don't think things through."

"Pretty sure Marvis was the one I punched. I'm not apologizing for that by the way. You need a better job."

"I ain't gonna make you apologize for nothin'. Marvis had it comin'. I'm just sorry I missed seein' it… Ya know anyone hirin'?"

That had Paz pausing and turning his head to meet the other's eyes through the helmet's visor. Jon stared right back without a hint of the earlier playfulness. This man was serious…

"Maybe. Do you have any reservations with traveling the galaxy with a possibly wanted criminal?"

Jon rolled his eyes at that, even when it caused him to grimace in pain.

"I could use a mechanic on my crew but if you travel with me you should know we might run into the Imperials again. You might even be added to their wanted list, Jon."

"Ya know just what to say to make a guy swoon, don't ya Mando? If the Imps want ya then you can't be all that bad. Why are they after ya? If ya don't mind me askin'?"

Paz found his heart beating just a little faster at that playful reply. W-was Jon flirting with him or was his mind just playing tricks on him? 

Trying to distract himself from the flood of thoughts,  _ bad thoughts _ , he started telling the story of what had happened with his covert. Starting at the discovery of that small, green child Din had adopted then the tribes' rescue of their brother and his foundling from the clutches of the hunter guild. Finally ending with the Imp attack and his own escape from Nevarro. Jon stayed respectfully quiet through the tale, a marvel really since the man didn't seem to have an off switch when it came to talking. The only time he made a noise was to give a sympathetic hum when the Mandalorian described how he had no idea how many from the covert had managed to survive Moff Gideon's ambush.

Finally, finished patching the mechanic up Paz stepped back to examine his work. The brunette now donned a crown of bandages wrapped securely around his head to keep the open wound free of infection, and coupled with the rapidly darkening black eye, the poor man looked like he had been on the wrong side of a cantina brawl. Some of his worry must have shown in his body language, because a moment later Jon tried giving him a reassuring grin.

"Don't ya worry none, believe me, I've had worse. I'll be able to get that stabilizer installed as soon as this bacta sets… and the room stops spinning… then we'll be out o' here. I'll help ya find yer tribe, I promise."

A tilt of Paz's helm, then…

"What do you mean 'you've had worse'?"

"Down boy," Jon chuckled, sliding off the kitchen table to test his legs. When his knees didn't buckle under his own weight he gave a satisfied nod.

"I ain't sayin' that I make a habit of startin' fights, but I am a mechanic. I work with heavy machinery and idiots on a daily basis. Shit tends to happen."

The Mando grunted at that and watched as the mechanic made towards the ramp exit using the wall for support. The man glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the Mandalorian.

"Ya gonna help me fix yer ship or just stand there?"

Paz sighed.

"Fine. You're resting afterwards though."

"Aye, aye Cap 'in."

"… it's Paz."

"Aye, aye Cap 'in Paz."

Paz sighed again. 


	2. Concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is an oblivious idiot when it comes to his health. Paz has concerns then some plot happens at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter but I'm happy with how it came out.
> 
> Once again, thank you so much to WizardMoonwhisper for being an amazing beta reader.

Paz has some concerns. Whether those concerns are in regard to Jon or his own sanity… well, he's still trying to figure that out.

It's been a little over a week since Jon had joined him in the search for what remained of his tribe and, quite frankly, the Mandalorian was out of his element. He had traveled with others from his covert before. Raga was always welcomed on his ship and they could often be found sharing the same space, but this… this was different. Jon was different, and Paz had no kriffing idea what to do.

In all honesty, Paz had expected sharing his ship to be a lot more awkward, but after that first stressful day and the events on that backwater planet, things had settled down into an easy routine between the two men. Well, mostly. The Mandalorian found himself wondering how the mechanic had fared on his own for so long on more than one occasion. The smaller man seemed to have no self-preservation skills, no filter, and a total lack of self-control.

Jon was in the process of giving the whole damn ship a full dialogistic once over, even with the concussion still slowing him down, and could often be found sticking his head into the inner workings of the vessel. Once or twice, Paz had nearly tripped over the smaller male's feet while the mechanic worked on rewiring something or investigating an odd rattling sound within the wall plating. The heavy gunner often found himself pulling, sometimes literally, the man away from whatever he was doing to check his still healing head wound or get him to eat something.

Then there was Jon's sleep schedule… or lack thereof. If Paz could find a way to bottle the excessive amount of energy the mechanic seemed to have at his disposal he could probably make a fortune selling it. However, with this seemingly endless source of energy came the inevitable crash and Paz was becoming very good at predicting when it would happen. It wasn't that difficult. Jon talked… a lot. When Jon stopped talking, that was reason enough to worry and had the Mandalorian's haunches raising. 

The first time it happens Paz nearly has a coronary. One minute, the infantryman is listening to Jon's near endless stream of words as he's adjusting something under the control panel in the cockpit, then the next there's silence. Paz blinks in confusion before glancing down at where he can see the mechanic's legs sticking out from under the controls. It takes far too long for him to register that Jon is still, too still, before the panic sets in. Cursing venomously the Mandalorian flings himself out of the pilot's seat to crouch over Jon's prone form. After, what feels like, an eternity he's able to untangle the man from the mess of wires and scattered tools. By the time he has the mechanic sprawled out on the cold floor where he's able to access him, Paz is ready to scream because the little shit  _ still  _ isn't making any noise. 

His brain isn't helping matters, merely fueling his dread by supplying his imagination with one terrifying scenario after another. Was Jon's concussion worse than the Mandalorian had originally thought, was the mechanic sporting another injury that had gone unnoticed until now?

Paz rips off one of his gloves and is reaching out a shaking hand to feel for a pulse when he hears it.

It takes a full five seconds for him to realize that the sound is Jon snoring softly.

The mechanic had fallen asleep midway through his work, and Paz should be thinking about the safety concerns of that, but all he can feel in this moment is a rush of relief. He spends a few moments kneeling over the smaller man, recovering from the adrenaline rush and listening to his mechanic's soft breathing while trying to settle his frazzled nerves.

He has no idea how long he stays like that, but eventually Jon gives a snort before jerking awake. He looks up at Paz through bleary eyes, clearly confused and still exhausted, before turning his head to look at the mess that's still strewn around the floor. 

__ _ Oh, hell no. _ If this man thought that he was just going to get back to work like nothing had happened…

"Is that going to cause the ship to explode," Paz asks, his voice comes out flat and unimpressed.

"Huh? Ah, I do't think so…," Jon slurs out around a yawn.

"Go to bed, Jon."

"But-"

"Bed. Now."

The order leaves no room for argument, but the mechanic looks like he might put up a fight just for the principal of the thing. They stare at each other for several long minutes, each unwilling to back down, and Paz is gearing up for a fight when Jon gives another jaw splitting yawn. The fight seems to drain out of him then and he pulls himself slowly to his feet with the Mandalorian's hand firmly on his shoulder to stead him. The smaller man gives the open compartment under the control panel one more long look before he heads below deck. Paz follows with the thinly veiled guise of grabbing something to eat from the kitchen.

He watches Jon bed down in the area of the cargo bay where he's setup a temporary nest of blankets. Paz had promised to get Jon something better to sleep on at their next supply stop, but the man had merely waved him off after explaining he could fall asleep anywhere.

_ Huh. Guess he was telling the truth. _

The Mandalorian comes down several more times over the course of the next four hours. Each time with the excuse of; looking for something, using the refresher, grabbing some water, or anything else he could come up with. It certainly wasn't to check that his mechanic was still breathing…

Afterwards, Paz finds that he doesn't have to breach the subject. True to his nature, and his inability to shut up, Jon spills everything the next day over breakfast. The man had too much energy for his own good, and after years of poor sleeping habits stemming from his job along with the occasional bout of insomnia … well, he supposed he could forgive the smaller male for scaring the ever-loving  _ shit _ out of him. Not that the Mandalorian would ever admit as much.

So, now Paz took it upon himself to monitor the mechanic's health. Making him take breaks, shoving a ration bar into the mechanics hands when he steps back from his work, and, now, limiting the time the male can go without sleep. The stubborn little cuss protests and pouts at first, but Paz is tenacious. Faced with a battle-ready Mandalorian that was unwilling to back down from these new restrictions, Jon admits defeat fairly quickly. In the week after leaving behind the small hanger where they'd first met, Jon is looking far healthier. He's actually put a bit of weight on, looking more lithe now than scrawny. The man doesn't look like a strong wind could knock him on his ass now. Something in Paz preens at this, he can't help but feel like he's somehow saved the man from wasting away on that tiny settlement.

Jon merely rolls his eyes when Paz points out the clear change in his health but doesn't say anything to squash the larger man's smug body language.

It's closing in on day nine aboard the vessel when Paz receives an encrypted message.

It feels like he can finally breathe again as he reads over the short communication for the sixth time. He's vaguely aware of Jon falling silent behind him in the navigator's chair, but he can feel the man's eyes boring into the back of his head, so he knows Jon hasn't passed out again.

"Paz? Ya with me bud," Jon asks, clear unease seeping into every word.

When he turns his helmet towards the man he's gifted a worried little smile.

"Good news or bad news, Cap 'in?"

That gets a snort out of the Mandalorian.

"Thought I told you to stop calling me 'Captain'."

"Got a response outta ya, did't it," Jon shrugs without a hint of remorse.

Paz chuckles at that, the noise coming out a little hysterical. If anything, the mechanic looks a little more anxious at the sound. The infantryman motions to the message still displayed on one of the monitors before he realizes that Jon probably won't be able to read the Mando'a it's written in. Still, the man scans over the screen, then his eyes settle back on the T-shaped visor of the Mandalorian's helm, patiently waiting for an explanation.

"It's from the covert. Coordinates to a temporary settlement."

"That's great," Jon exclaims, then slumps back in his seat with a relieved sigh. "Holy hell, Paz! Don't go worryin' me like that again!"

"Sorry…"

"No, ya ain't but ya will be if you pull that again."

Paz lets out a real laugh at that, feeling light and relieved after days of constant apprehension.

It's at this moment that his brain elects now would be a good time to point out that Jon had agreed to help him with his ship until he found his tribe, but they had never actually talked about what would happen afterwards. Paz decides that he really, kriffing hates his brain.

"Maybe we can find a planet in the same sector. Get you settled in and-"

"Wha'cha on 'bout now," Jon questions, eyeing Paz like he's the one that had the head injury.

"You said you'd help until we found the covert but…," the blue armored man trails off there, the words catching in his throat.

They sit there for a moment in heavy silence, Jon staring straight into Paz' eyes through the visor with an unreadable expression.

"Do ya want me ta leave?"

"What?"

"Easy question there, sweetheart. Do ya want me ta leave?"

Paz' brain misfires at the term 'sweetheart'.

"No?"

The mechanic shoots Paz an unimpressed look.

"Did ya just answer my question with another question?"

"No, Jon. I don't want you to leave, but-"

Jon's face breaks out into a wide grin, looking smug as he keeps his eyes trained on Paz's helmet. The Mandalorian's brain stalls at the expression and it takes a moment for him to remember how to form words.

"You don't need to keep traveling with me, Jon. You might even be safer elsewhere,"  _ out of the Imperial's line of sight _ , goes without saying.

The mechanic hums like he's thinking about his words before responding with a shrug.

"Nah."

"Pardon?"

"Nah, ya ain't gettin' rid of me that easy."

Paz blinks.

"Okay," his voice comes out far smaller than he means it to, but the relief is clear.

His mechanic rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath about  _ kriffin' idiots _ as the Mandalorian turns back to the controls to plug the coordinates into the navigation system. He turns on the autopilot as Jon starts up his story again at the exact same spot he'd stopped earlier. It's as he's watching the stars fall away as the hyperdrive kicks in, that another thought passes through his mind.

Raga was going to tease him ruthlessly about this if she ever caught wind of it, and the likelihood of that happening only increased when you factored in the that Jon can't keep his mouth shut ninety percent of the time.

Paz really, really hates his kriffing brain.


	3. Confusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz is confused. Jon is an oblivious idiot. Raga makes an appearance and is amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone for the wonderful comments and support!
> 
> Also, thank you too me amazing beta reader, WizardMoonwhisper! 💙

Paz is confused.

Jon is an enigma to him most of the time. The Mandalorian is used to people being terrified of him. His size, armor, and weapons all make him look about as approachable as a Sarlacc pit on a good day. Everything about him screams ‘piss off or I’ll shoot you’. Even members of his own tribe dared not to cross him… but, apparently, the mechanic didn’t seem to get the memo?

Jon was a tactile little thing too. He didn’t seem to understand what personal space was. Where most people would make a point to stay as far away from him as viably possible, the mechanic would plaster himself to the larger male’s side without a care in the world. 

At one point in their travels, Paz decided to give him a quick lesson in navigation and star charts. Which, he thought, was a good idea at the time. It made sense in the long run. Paz would have to sleep eventually and that would leave the vessel under Jon’s care. Smart thinking, right?

However, instead of standing behind the heavy gunner, and watching from a respectable distance, Paz suddenly found himself with the small mechanic _draped_ over one of his shoulders like a Kowakian monkey-lizard. The infantryman had frozen as the smaller male scanned the monitors from his perch, looking over the data completely oblivious to the inner turmoil happening right next to him. 

While Paz doesn’t necessarily _want_ the smaller man to be afraid of him, the complete lack of fear from Jon was a shock to his system. It was… nice. Odd, and a little unsettling at first, but nice. 

So, the Mandalorian hadn’t said anything to deter the behavior.

And Jon kept being… well, Jon. Maybe this was simply how he showed his affection?

Yeah, Paz was confused and his kriffing useless brain wasn’t providing any answers either.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

The heavy infantryman set the ship down in a relatively quiet port. They needed to restock on basic supplies and fuel before continuing the journey further into the Outer Rim. The new temporary home of the covert was at least three more days out and they were running low on just about everything. It also wouldn’t hurt to give Jon a place to stretch his legs. While the man was used to working on ships for a living, it was obvious he hadn’t traveled on one for an extended period of time. His boundless energy contained in such a small space for days on end had the mechanic practically climbing the walls by the time they landed. Paz wouldn’t have minded staying back on the ship to wait for the refueling to complete but he didn’t trust Jon not to get himself into trouble in his absence.

It took nearly the entire day to find and purchase everything they needed. The mechanic was surprisingly good at haggling. Maybe it was his chipper personality? His happy little smile completely disarming the shopkeepers, then his ability to talk to _anyone_ got them down to a much lower price before they even knew what hit them. Everytime they left a shop with a dazed looking merchant in their wake, Paz felt a little better. At least he wasn’t the only one feeling off balanced by this man.

At the end of the day, the two found themselves outside a cantina. Deciding to treat them to an actual cooked meal instead of ration bars, Paz steered his mechanic inside the pub.

“I got the food. Can ya grab us a booth,” the brunette asked, pausing just long enough to get a nod from the Mandalorian before he headed towards the bar.

Paz claimed a table that allowed him to keep his back to a solid wall while also being able to see the door. Once settled, the heavy gunner turned to look for his mechanic and froze.

Jon was easy enough to spot from where he was leaning over the bar, as was the male Twi’lek that was eyeing the smaller male a short distance away. He felt his eyes narrow as the Twi’lek stood from his own table and made his way straight to the mechanic. The blue male sauntered up to the brunette and took over the seat right next to where the man was waiting patiently for their food. Jon merely gave the alien a passing glance and a polite smile before trying to turn back towards the bar, but then the blue male was reaching out a hand to brush his fingers through the man’s hair. Paz bristled, something possessive curled in his gut. The Twi’lek was just leaning in to whisper something into the mechanic’s ear when Paz stood. He stalked towards the two and slammed a hand down on the bar between them, shoving his bulk forward to shield the shorter man from the handsy Twi’lek. The blue alien startled with a yelp, shrinking back from the imposing form of the angry Mandalorian.

“Paz,” Jon asked, blinking up in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Is there a problem here,” he growled, allowing himself to stand at his full height and glaring down at the Twi’lek.

For his part the blue alien at least looked like he regretted every life decision that had led him up to this point. The male cowered further into himself and meekly shook his head. With a snarl, the Mandalorian flicked his head in the direction of the exit and watched as the Twi’lek quickly fled. It would have been a waste of a blaster round to kill him, but it might have made Paz feel better…

“Ya alright there, bud?”

“Fine,” Paz snapped, but deflated a moment later after seeing the mechanic’s raised brow. “Sorry… Are you okay?”

“Was’t the first time someone hit on me, big guy,” Jon huffed out in annoyance, then flashed the Mandalorian a pleased grin. “I do appreciate ya comin’ to the rescue though. I never know what ta say to get ‘em ta back off. Silly, right? Me, not knowing what to say.”

Paz allowed himself to snort at the joke, pausing a moment later when the man’s words finally sunk in.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“Meh,” the mechanic replied with a shrug, which was a non-answer if Paz had ever heard one. “Oh, don’t go lookin’ at me like that! Helmet or no, I know yer givin’ me some kinda look. I wasn’t gonna run off with that guy and leave ya without a mechanic. Stars only know what ya’d do to that poor ship without me to keep it in one piece.”

The bartender took that moment to appear with their food. Paz’ own was already sealed away inside a container so he could eat it back in the sanctuary of his own ship. He led Jon back towards the table and watched as the man dug into his stew.

Jon seemed totally unaffecting by what had just happened. He didn’t seem upset over being flirted with by another male, nor practically worried by Paz’ defense of his ‘honor’. Which was… something. He just didn’t know what, and Paz’ brain was too busy imagining painful ways to end that Twi’lek to actually help him process it.

Maybe that’s why he decided to open his mouth a moment later with...

“So, are you just not interested in…,” Paz froze, suddenly unsure what the hell was happening.

Jon looked up from his half finished bowl, tilting his head in confusion before his eyes lit up understanding.

“Ah, no. That guy was’t really my type,” the mechanic stated, pushing his bowl away a moment later.

Paz really shouldn’t ask. It wasn’t any of his business. It would be really great if his brain could just kriffing work with him right now. Do not ask…

“What is your type?”

Damnit! Paz swore that he was going to kill as many of his brain cells as possible with Tihaar once he got back to the covert. It wasn’t like he was using any of them anyway, apparently.

Jon looked a little surprised by the question, then shot the Mandalorian a shy grin.

“Tall, dark, and armored.”

Oh… OH. Well, that… okay. So, maybe he could hold off on the alcohol poisoning for now.

“Oh,” ...smooth, Paz.

*~~*~~*~~*~~*

Nearly 72 hours later and they are closing in on the desert planet of Ortix. The men hadn’t talked further about that cantina conversation a few days ago, but something comfortable had settled over them. Occasionally, Paz would catch Jon smiling at him out of the corner of his eye and… wow, that felt nice. Shit, he was going soft.

“Ortix? Kinda sounds like a type o’ bird,” Jon mumbled as he peered out the observation window in front of them.

The Mandalorian hummed in agreement. The planet certainly didn’t look like much from here, but that was the point. This planet had been selected because no one would come looking for a tribe of Mandalorians hidden within one of its many arid deserts.

“Strap in, I’m taking us down,” he called over his shoulder, suddenly nervous.

It wasn’t unheard of for someone in the tribe to court a person not of the Creed but that didn’t automatically mean that Jon would be accepted with open arms. Still, the mechanic was traveling with a Vizla, so that had to count for something. And while he knew Raga would personally tease him for the rest of his existence, he also knew that the red armored Mandalorian would absolutely love Jon.

At least Jon didn’t seem nervous, in fact, the man was almost vibrating in his seat from excitement. A wide smile split the small man’s face and his eyes shone with barely contacted elation. Paz chuckled at the mechanic and received a bright, clear laugh from the wired man in return.

Almost immediately after entering the planet’s atmosphere, the sound of an incoming message pinged in the cockpit. Paz pulled up the communication to discover another Mando’a encrypted navigation point. The new course led them across the vast sandy dunes before, finally, in the distance he spotted it. Hidden in a rocky valley separating two neighboring wastelands was a cave entrance. From the air it didn’t look like it was large enough to allow the ship entrance but with some patience, and skillful maneuvering, Paz was able to slip the gunship through the narrow passageway. Beyond the entrance, the cave opened into a wide flat room, large enough for the covert to use it as a makeshift hanger.

The Mandalorian set the vessel down between two other vaguely familiar ships, then leaned back in his chair to allow his helmet to gently smack the head rest. A hand carefully settled on one of his pauldrons and he looked up into Jon’s green eyes.

“Ya alright there, big guy?”

Paz nodded. And really, he was fine. Just relieved.

“So, ready to meet the covert?”

“Time ta meet the family?”

Paz snorted in amusement and stood, leading Jon down into the cargo bay then activated the ship’s ramp. A short time later, Paz found himself standing amongst the familiar sight of his tribes small armata. One or two of the ships seemed to be missing, and of course Din’s ship was absent, but that could mean the owners simply hadn’t arrived yet. The ambush could have been so much worse…

As excited as the mechanic was, for once, the man seemed to have gained some level of sense. He stuck close to the massive form of the Mandalorian as they moved through the cave. They didn’t make it far before an unmistakable red set of armor blocked their paths.

“It’s about time you found your way back,” Raga says once she’s given him a once-over for injuries. Paz had known her long enough to catch the relief slipping into her voice. “What took you so long?”

Before he could respond, Raga’s head was snapping to look around his side. He glances back to see Jon’s head peering around his bulk with clear curiosity and, again, no hint of fear. They really needed to have a talk about that…

“Ah, Raga this is Jon. He’s my… mechanic?”

“Was that a question,” Jon mutters behind him.

“Jon this is Raga.”

“Hi, there Raga! It’s real nice to met ya. I’d say Paz has told me all ‘bout ya but he hasn’t. Is it considered rude to talk ‘bout yer tribe to someone that isn’t a Mandalorian or somethin’?”

And Jon is rambling now.

Raga watches the man talk for a time, sizing him up, before slowly turning her helmet towards Paz. He feels himself tense under her gaze.

“Oh, this is going to be fun,” Raga chuckles before facing Jon again, watching him continue on with whatever tangent the mechanic was on now.

Paz sighs and runs a hand over the front of his helmet.


	4. Foundlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raga is entertained. Paz panics a little. Jon makes some friends.
> 
> Then there's a little fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to WizardMoonwhisper, who puts up with me and my apparent hatred of commas.

Paz, honestly, expected worse from Raga. He had expected the normal ribbing from the other Mandalorian, of course, but he really thought she'd take it farther than that. Maybe it was because Jon was _still_ talking? Had been talking since he'd met the red armored Mandalorian. Not that that was a surprise to _him_ , but the constant chatter might have thrown the female off.

"So… how did you two meet," Raga cuts in just as Jon takes a breath. Paz can just hear the amusement dripping from her words, but the mechanic perks up at the question.

"Oh, I was helpin' him fix his ship, poor girl was in a right mess too. Then he helped with my concussion and asked me to join his crew and-"

"Concussion," the woman asked, whipping her helm around to stare at Paz.

"The others working in Jon's garage thought it would be a good idea to try and hand me over to the Imps," the heavy gunner explained, Jon throwing in a muttered _kriffin' morons_ in the background. "Jon… took offense to that plan."

Raga seemed to be rolling that around in her head for a moment, before turning back to face the brunette.

"How good are you at accessing and patching ships?"

Jon's face breaks out into a wide, excited grin. Oh, oh no.

"I can take apart a ship an' put it back ta'gether within a day-," the man trails off there, eyes flickering towards Paz' very unimpressed form. "Uh, well. I could if _someone_ would just let me work-"

"You need to sleep, Jon. People need sleep to function," the heavy gunner shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest to show this wasn't an argument the smaller man was going to win.

"I sleep-"

"Not enough."

"I take naps-"

"You know that’s not how that works, right?"

That gets a pout and a frustrated noise from the back of the man's throat, but he doesn't protest further. Small miracles.

"Oh, this is just adorable," Raga chuckles from where she'd been happily watching their exchange. "Come on, you two. I'll show you where you can bed down, then you-" the woman points to the larger man "- need to report to the Armorer."

Paz straightens at that and nods. He chooses to ignore the fact that the woman had called them 'adorable'. Nope, not going there.

*~~*~~*~~*

He's going to kill Raga.

The covert had used cave systems for temporary settlers before in the past, though Paz had never been to this particular one before, so the tribe had everything it needed already set in place until a new permanent home could be found. Rooms had been craved out of the stone walls, 'freshers had been installed, larger communal areas for the tribe to gather, and foundlings could play were setup. Of course, the forge was located towards the center of it all where the covert's leader could often be found. The heavy infantryman knew he'd have to report to the Armorer sooner rather than later, but he wanted to get Jon settled before that happened. Raga appeared to have the same idea. He should have been more suspicious.

They were currently standing in, what would now be, his room. Well, _their_ room. Paz was actually okay with sharing a room with Jon, that wasn't the issue. In all honesty, he probably would have suggested they share one if Raga had asked. If only so he could continue to monitor the smaller male's sleep and eating schedules. No, the one room wasn't a problem. What was problematic was the one bed.

Paz stared into the room for a long moment, then slowly turned to glare at the woman through his visor. Raga simply tilted her head in question, portraying complete innocence in her posture. Maybe, he could make it look like an accident…

With an all-consuming sigh, the heavy gunner turned to glance at his mechanic.

"You need sleep-"

"So ya've told me-"

"Jon, I need to report to my _Alor-_ ," Paz pauses at the smaller man's confused little head tilt at the unfamiliar word. "Leader. I need to report to my leader."

"An' I can't come along," Jon guesses.

"No. Not this time."

"Though I'm sure she'll be very interested to meet you later," Raga pipes up cheerfully from the doorway.

"Fine," Jon sighs. "Guess a nap's in order…"

"Stay here. I don't want you getting lost in these caves."

"Yes, _mom_."

Paz could see Raga's shaking shoulders from here, barely containing her laughter. The witch was getting way too much enjoyment out of this.

*~~*~~*~~*

The meeting took longer than he'd thought it would. True to Raga's words, the Armorer had been interested in hearing about Jon. She'd stayed silent through his story about their first meeting and the aid Jon had offered to him regarding his ship. Though, her helm had tilted curiously when Paz had mentioned that the man had stood against the other mechanics and their plan of turning him over to the Imperial forces. At some point, he became aware there were others hovering inquisitively by the door. He wasn't surprised, outsiders weren't a common occurrence, but he couldn't help the glare he threw over his shoulder.

"You are willing to vouch for this _aruetii,_ Paz Vizla," the Armorer questions and Paz bristles at the term.

_Aruetii_ , the Mando'a word for outsider, foreigner, _traitor_. Jon was no _traitor._ Logically, he knew his _Alor_ wasn't implying that the mechanic was, but the heavy gunner still didn't like the idea of the term being thrown in the smaller man's face.

"Jon is _atin,_ _verburyc_ , and stupidly _kotep_ , but he is no _aruetii,_ _Alor,_ " Paz growls back without a moment of hesitance.

Silence falls over the forge as the Armorer regards the larger man with a tilt of her golden helm. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Raga straighten from where she had been leaning against the wall, clearly a little stunned by the man's defiant tone towards their leader.

" _Aliit ori'shya tal'din,"_ the Armorer asks with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Paz doesn't answer. He isn't sure how to, honestly. It isn't like he and other man had spoken about it.

"Very well. Your… _buru'ya_ may stay," the _Alor_ stands. "This is the way."

"This is that way," Paz and the others repeat back. Then, the Armorer turns back to her forge, a clear dismissal.

Once outside the forge, Raga cuffs the man in the back of his helmet.

Paz snorts in annoyance and steps back from the woman.

"Come on, _di'kut_. We'd better get you back to _your_ mechanic before you go causing any more trouble."

The heavy infantryman decides not to point out that Jon was much more likely to cause trouble than him.

*~~*~~*~~*

The room is empty when they get back. Paz stares at it for all of three seconds before he's stomping across the area towards the refresher.

"Jon," he calls out first before tugging the door open, empty.

Silence. Jon doesn't do silence.

"I'm sure he's fine," Raga tries to placate, holding up her hands like she's trying to calm a spooked animal. "Don't panic."

Yeah, Paz is panicking.

Snarling, the heavy gunner pushes past the woman to step into the hallway. Think, think…

"I'm getting a _kriffing_ tracker for him after this."

He ignores Raga's nervous laugh as he starts down the hall. He'll head to the hanger first, hopefully the man had just gone back to the ship for something.

They're just passing one of the larger communal chambers when he hears it. It's a sound that Paz had become very familiar with while traveling with the mechanic.

Jon's laughter rings out into the corridor beyond the large room, along with the shouts of excited foundlings. The sight that greets the two as they enter is… surprising.

Jon has several of the younger foundlings hanging off of him, clearing trying to bring the man down with their combined weight. The man is doing an admirable job trying to stay on his feet but then two other children throw themselves into the fray. The mechanic goes down hard, twisting his body so he doesn't accidentally squish any of the delighted foundlings.

Across the room a large group of adults are all watching the show. No one makes a move to stop any of the children from joining in on the fun and that makes the tension leave his body in a rush. Mandalorian parents were incredibly protective of their little ones, so if they saw no harm in allowing the foundlings to play with the mechanic then that spoke highly of what they might think of the man.

"Oh, no! I have been bested by the mighty band of Mandalorian hunters," Jon calls out dramatically, his voice muffled by the giggling children currently piling onto his back.

The mechanic is just feigning his death throws when Paz' large shadow descends over the group. The man tilts his head up so one of his eyes can peer around the mound children celebrating their victory and stills when he spots Paz.

"Uh…"

"I thought I told you to stay in the room."

"Well, yeah. Ya did say that, did't ya…"

The larger man merely crosses his arms and stares down at the brunette, waiting for an explanation.

"I was stayin' in the room like ya asked but then I heard a kid out in the hallway," the mechanic motions to one of the children with his head, a blond human boy currently pinning one of his arms. "He was lost. Poor thing could't find his way 'round the caves. So, I took him back here. Figured we'd find an adult and I could go on my merry way. But…"

Here, the brunette gives Paz a flat, deadpan look.

"But, the other children asked you to play," the Mandalorian guesses. "Wait, how did you find your way back here? You both could have gotten lost."

Jon rolls his eyes at that. _The little shit…_

"I got a good sense of direction and decent survival skills-"

"Unless it comes to your health," the blue armored man interrupts.

"That… okay, tha's fair," the brunette mumbles. "But I ain't never gotten _lost_ before."

The smaller man looks so proud of himself with that declaration, like being able to find his way around was such a great ability. Paz sighs.

"Alright, _ade._ Fun's over for now. Let your prisoner up," Raga announces a second later.

Several of the children whine at the loss of their new playmate, but eventually wander back towards their caretakers. Jon stays prone on the stone floor, patiently waiting for the last of the little ones to release him before trying to move. He isn't able to do much more than sit up though, because then Paz is swooping in and throwing the mechanic over one large shoulder. The brunette hisses like an angry loth-cat at the treatment, but thanks to the antics of the children he doesn't have the energy to put up a fight.

"Paz, I can walk!"

The Mandalorian hums in agreement, but doesn't let go, just turns back toward the direction of their room, and pointedly ignores the other adults waving goodbye to the smaller man.

Jon huffs, but goes plaint over the beskar pauldron.

"This is unnecessary."

"It's either this or I put you on a leash," Paz shoots back over his shoulder, enjoying the sputtering that statement gets.

"Kriffin' idiot."

" _Atin or'dinii._ "

"… wha' does tha' mean?"

"Stubborn moron."

"Rude. Don't go insultin' me in a language I ca't understand!"

Once they're back inside the room, Paz closes the door, and deposits the mechanic onto the bed. Jon grunts upon hitting the hard mattress and shoots the Mandalorian a glare.

"Go to sleep, Jon," Paz orders and heads towards the refresher to clean up. "You can take the bed-"

"What?"

Paz pauses at the outrage in the man's voice and turns to find the smaller man leveling a scowl at him.

"You take the bed and-"

"You'll also take the bed," Jon snipes right back, narrowing his eyes.

"…"

"We're both grown adults, Paz. We can share the bed. It's plenty big for the two 'o us."

Okay, Jon has a point there and he can't think of anything to say to that…

So, after considering the other man's words, the Mandalorian nods.

They don't completely strip down to sleep, that would have been a little too awkward. Paz does remove all of his armor except, of course, for the helmet so he's down to his dark under suit. For his part, Jon shucks his boots and changes into more comfortable pants while the larger man is in the refresher.

It takes some maneuvering, but they finally find a comfortable enough position with the Mandalorian's back towards the wall and the mechanic curled towards the edge of the bed. Paz falls asleep to the sound of the brunette's even breathing.

*~~*~~*~~*

He isn't sure how long he sleeps for, but he blinks awake some time later. The room is near pitch black, the only reason he's able to see is due to the built-in night vision in the helm. He blinks in confusion, listening carefully for any signs of danger or anything that could have woken him. The hallway beyond their room is silent, the only other sound he can hear is Jon's soft inhalations of breaths. Breaths that sound a lot closer than they had been earlier…

There's also a line of heat plastered to his front and, glancing down, he discovers that the mechanic must have moved at some point during the night. The brunette is pressed into the larger man's frame with his head buried in the space just above one of his collar bones. Paz' brain misfires and he's just about to reach out to shake the man awake when he feels Jon move slightly. The mechanic turns to press his nose into the line of skin under his chin and the Mandalorian freezes.

Jon's nose is frigid. It takes longer than he'd like to admit to realize the poor man is shivering, just slightly, in his sleep. Shit…

Without even thinking of the possible consequences of his actions, Paz reaches out. Not to shake awake, but to pull the man closer towards him. He tosses a leg over one of the smaller man's and wraps his arms completely around the slim figure in front of him.

Ramifications be damned, he wasn't going to let his mechanic die of hypothermia on his watch.

It takes a few minutes, but soon Jon sighs in contentment. Squirming forward even more and nuzzling into the large man's neck. The shivering dies down shortly after, but Paz doesn't let go.

He's just about to slip back under the veil of sleep when he hears Jon mumble something dozily into his neck.

"Go to sleep, Jon," Paz automatically replies, and hears an answering snore right back for his efforts.

The Mandalorian falls back asleep shortly after, making sure to curl himself protectively around the smaller body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alor- leader  
> atin- stubborn  
> verburyc- loyal  
> kotep- brave  
> Aruetii- outsider, forgiener, traitor  
> Aliit ori'shya tal'din- family is more than blood  
> buru'ya- friend  
> di'kut- idiot  
> Atin or'dinii- stubborn moron  
> ade- children


	5. Anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz is angry. Jon is tired. Raga is there for emotional support... For Jon of course, not Paz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything I still hate commas, WizardMoonwhisper. Nothing you say can change my mind!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your comments! They sustain me! 💙

The next time he opens his eyes, Jon is still using him as a space heater. Granted,  _ he's _ still curled around the other man like he's afraid the mechanic might disappear if he let's go. Checking the hub his helmet provides for the time, he's astonished to see that they've both been asleep for seven hours. That… is a kriffing miracle. Jon never sleeps longer than a few hours at one time. Normally, Paz would be lucky to get the man to pass out for four whole hours without interruptions, so this is a pleasant surprise.

However, this also leaves him with a difficult decision. He knows he should get up and start his day, but that would mean waking his mechanic.

Okay, so it's not as hard of a decision as he makes it out to be. He's warm, comfortable, and the thought of waking the man that gets so little rest on a daily basis keeps him from moving.

Paz stays like that for a while, drifting in a semi-conscious state, listening to the quiet sounds of the tribe moving about outside their room. He's just starting to really doze off again when he feels Jon shift. The brunette makes a confused little sound from where he's buried his face into the Mandalorian's chest, blinking up at the larger man.

They stare at each other for a few minutes before the mechanic stretches and Paz is forced to loosen his hold.

"Mornin'," the slim man greets, the word slurred out around a yawn.

The Mandalorian grunts in reply then sits up as the Jon rolls over to throw an arm over the side of the bed, reaching for his boots without trying to leave the warmth of the blanket cocoon he's created.

"Did you sleep well?"

Jon pauses at the question, he looks a little shocked when he answers.

"Yeah, actually I did… Huh."

Out of curiosity Paz finally decides to ask: "You don't normally sleep well, do you?"

"No," the answer is a quiet mumble, Jon doesn't look up to meet his eyes through the visor.

Alarm bells are going off in his head, but the Mandalorian can't seem to keep his kriffing mouth shut.

"Why?"

The mechanic stays quiet for so long that Paz thinks he's not going to answer at all. He pushes himself up and maneuvers around Jon's frozen form on the bed to start pulling on his Beskar'gum. He's just finishing up fastening his last piece into place and trying to find something to break the heavy silence that's fallen over the room, when he suddenly hears Jon speak up.

"Nightmares, mostly. Sometimes…," the mechanic's voice is a small, fragile little thing. He isn't looking at Paz, but rather, past one of his shoulders. "Sometimes, they're mem'ries."

The large Mandalorian does not like where this is heading. Doesn't like his mechanic looking, somehow, smaller with that haunted expression in his eyes.

"You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to," he tries to reassure.

That seems to break the stupor and Jon's eyes snap up to stare at his helmet. He gets a shaky smile from the man, one that doesn't quite reach his eyes, before the brunette gets to work on changing his clothes. Paz sharply turns around with a pained noise emitting from the back of his throat when Jon makes to pull off his sleep pants.

*~~*~~*~~*

Once they're presentable, Paz leads the brunette out of the room but has to reach out a hand to stop the mechanic when he turns towards the hanger.

"Food first, then I'll let you rip apart our ships and cause general mayhem in our hanger."

Jon pouts at that, but doesn't argue.

He sits the man down at one of the tables in, what passes for the tribe’s dining hall, along with a bowl of food. He's distracted a moment later when Raga joins them.

"Well, you've finally decided to join the land of the living? Good," the woman teases, though her helm is pointedly staring straight at the large Mandalorian.

Paz stares right back, daring her to say anything else, but then Raga is turning abruptly to Jon.

"Careful, that's Tiingilar. It's-," both Mandalorians watch in stunned silence as the man drains the last of the stew from the bowl, before he glances up with a curious little head tilt. "-spicy."

"Do I still ha'e both my eyebrows?"

"Yes?"

"Then it ain't spicy 'nough," the brunette states with a shrug, pushing his bowl towards Paz to show it's empty. "Can I go play with the other mechanics now, mom?"

He ignores the way Raga's helm keeps glancing back and forth between the two of them, and gives the smaller man a quick nod with the instructions of 'don't get lost'. Jon roll his eyes good-naturedly, before excusing himself from the table. Once he's out of earshot, Paz turns his attention back to his fellow Mandalorian.

"I need your help, Raga."

"You want me to keep an eye on your  _ cyare _ ? Afraid someone might try to steal him?"

His brain screeches to a halt and refuses to respond for several minutes. For her part, Raga is practically radiating sheer delight over his emotional crisis.

This is a cave system. He's sure he could find a deep, dark hole somewhere. No one would miss her, right?

"Just- could you watch him to make sure he doesn't overdo it," Paz finally forces out past a growl that's forming in the back of his throat.

The woman tilts her helm in question at that.

"Jon, has a tendency to forget he's human and needs food or rest when he's working on something," the man sighs, leaning back in his seat. "I can't always be there now that we've made it back to the covert. I have responsibilities to the  _ Alor _ -"

Raga waves the request off. "Stop. Fine, I'll guard your mechanic. I'm sure I can drag a few others in to help keep tabs on him, too. He made quite the impression yesterday."

Paz hums in agreement at that, glancing over the woman's head to stare out into the hallway in the direction Jon had disappeared.

"He seemed-," the other Mandalorian ventures, shrugging when she finally settles on: "-'off' today. Did something happen?"

The larger man doesn't like the idea of speaking about Jon's private matters without the man around, it feels disrespectful. But he trusts Raga with his life. He knows he can trust her with this, too.

"Jon, does not sleep well. He-," Paz flails for a moment, completely in uncharted territory for him. "He says he has nightmares."

He leaves out the other part the mechanic had shared with him, unwilling to violate the man's trust any further than he already has. Besides, he still hasn't processed that yet, himself. Jon is such a joyful, kind person, that to imagine he might have memories that leave him unable to sleep is… disturbing.

Raga hums at the new information but doesn't ask for more details. He guesses he can hold off on the assassination plans. For now.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz spends the majority of the day with the Armorer and the other higher ranked members of the covert. The tribe can not stay in the cave system indefinitely. The desert planet may make for a quiet respite from the Imperial dogs snapping at their heels, but the planet itself has no real resources or other settlements to help sustain their people.

There are options on the table, though. Scouts are selected, orders are given, and a plan is set into place. The  _ Alor _ decides to hold off on sending out the few selected to investigate the new possible locations for the covert right away. Their foundlings need rest, and their fleet needs repairs. The supplies on hand will give them several weeks to work with, so it is decided that a cautious approach will be taken. No one argues. They are all very aware of how much worse things could have been, the possibilities hang over their heads like a dark cloud.

It's nearing dinner when the heavy gunner is released from his duties. The first place he decides to head is towards the hanger. Paz had done a commendable job at pushing the gnawing worry from his mind during the war council. He  _ knows _ Jon is safe under Raga's watchful eyes, but without anything to distract himself with, the anxiety comes back full force. He's only vaguely aware of stomping through the stone corridors like he's marching into battle, the others of his tribe scattering out of his way. 

When he finally spots the red armor of his fellow Mandalorian from across the large open room, the large man increases his speed. A moment later, his mechanic comes into view and Paz feels like he can breathe again. He stutters to a stop just behind Raga, when he registers the state the smaller male is in.

Jon is  _ covered _ in oil, making Paz wonder what in the kriffing hell had happened while he was gone. The man almost looks like he's been dunked into a large barrel of the black substance. He is also glaring so hard at another Mandalorian, a male in light brown armor, that the heavy infantryman is surprised the man hasn't burst into flames.

"Wha' did ya learn?"

The other Mandalorian stares down at Jon for a moment before looking up at Raga for guidance. The woman cocks one of her hips impatiently, keeping her arms crossed firmly over her chest in a clear demand for a response. At least she was taking her job as the mechanic's glorified guard dog seriously.

"That I shouldn't attempt to patch an oil leak if I don't know how?"

"Why do y'all always answer my question with 'nother question," the oil covered man asks, throwing up his hands in defeat. "Fine, whatever! It's fixed. Ship's good as new. Do't go doin' it again."

The brown armored Mandalorian, Paz thinks his name is Rork, looks like he wants to argue with the mechanic for all of two seconds before he notices the large man's arrival. Instead, the man nods his thanks to Jon before making himself scarce.

"I see you're making friends," the heavy gunner chuckles.

Jon's head snaps around at the sound of his voice and the man's face splits into a wide smile. The Mandalorian has to take a few minutes to remember how to breathe before taking a few steps forward.

"Hope he wasn't too much trouble," he directs at Raga, ignoring the mechanics indignant cry of  _ I'm a fuckin' delight _ .

"Oh, no. I only had to threaten him twice to take a break. The foundlings normally give me more of a challenge."

Jon snorts at that, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when his fingers come away covered in grease. Paz spots a towel slung over a nearby work station that's at least, somewhat, clean and tosses it to the man. The mechanic catches the cloth with a shout of child-like glee and turns to start peeling his ruined shirt off.

Before he can allow his eyes to wander, the infantryman glances back to Raga. He intends to ask how the ship maintenance was coming along, but the woman unexpectedly bristles. Puzzled, Paz follows the line of her visor and feels his stomach  _ drop _ .

Jon's bare back is clearly visible to the two Mandalorians from where they're standing. As are the numerous scars littering the man's skin. Not the type of normal scars one might expect from a mechanics line of work… these are burns. Old, long healed burns. There is barely a patch of clear skin in sight, most of the man's back is taken over by the wide, shiny scar tissue.

Paz is clenching his hands so hard his gloves creak ominously. He tries to take a breath to calm himself, but he can still  _ see _ the damage right in front of him, and his vision goes a little red.

"Jon," he chokes out, the sound comes out like he's in pain.

The man in question glances over his shoulder at the noise. He can't see their faces, but he must see something in their body language because his brows furrow in confusion. He looks like he's about to ask something when, he too, suddenly freezes as he realizes what they’re staring at. The man doesn't move for a long time, hands still holding the towel close to his chest before his shoulders fall. The mechanic's eyes go a little sad, his voice is barely a whisper when he answers the unspoken question.

"My da' was a real mean drunk."

Whatever oxygen Paz had left in his lungs comes out in a rush at those words.

"What?!"

Jon shoots the heavy gunner an unimpressed glare, then turns back to cleaning himself off as best he can with the towel.

Oh, no. Hell, no. Paz was fine with leaving the subject of  _ nightmares _ alone, but this… This was  _ unacceptable _ .

Paz stalks around the mechanic so he can see his face, barely catching Raga calling out his name in warning. He's only slightly relieved to see the exposed chest and abdomen clear of any old wounds.

"What did you just say?!"

Jon stares up at the man with a sharp look of defiance.

"Ya really want me ta say it again?"

No, no he really doesn't. But…

"Is this why you can't sleep," he manages to lower his voice, but the question still comes out as a growl.

"Sometimes," is the simple answer. Jon doesn't elaborate further and, fuck, if that doesn't cause him to want to break something…

“Jon-”

“Paz, look it’s fine-”

“This is not fine-!”

“No, it ain’t but neither is ya yellin’ at me for it!”

That stops Paz cold in his tracks. Fuck…

He takes a breath and runs a gloved hand down the front of his helmet.

“I’m sorry,” Paz whispers, but the nod from Jon shows the man heard him well enough.

“Ya’re right, ya know? It ain’t  _ fine _ . I was mad about it fer a long time and now-,” the brunette lets out a world-weary sigh, shrugging one shoulder. “Now I’m just tired. Tired of being mad all the time.”

The Mandalorian grunts in agreement. He isn’t sure if he’s about to cross a line here, but what the hell does he have to lose?

_ Jon _ , his traitorous brain replies. He tells it to fuck off.

“Would it be okay if I’m mad  _ for _ you?”

The mechanic blinks up at him in shock, then looks away, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. A moment later, Jon seems to come to a decision. He nods to himself and steps forwards so his head can ‘thump’ gently against the large Mandalorian’s beskar breastplate. 

“Yeah, I guess tha’ would be okay.”

Paz carefully cups the back of the man’s head with a gloved hand. It isn’t really a hug, it isn't meant to be intimate, just a touch to try to comfort.

He still really wants to break something, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beskar'gum- Mandalorian armor  
> Tiingilar- traditional Mandalorian stew. It is said to be very spicy.  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Alor- leader


	6. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz is still angry because that's, apparently, his default setting now. Raga has the one brain cell. The twins show up. Jon is still adorable.
> 
> Then there's a little plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to my beta reader, WizardMoonwhisper for putting up with me. 💙

Paz is angry.

Well, Paz feels like shit, but he's also angry.

It had been two days after the 'Hanger Incident", as Raga had dubbed it, and he still feels guilty for yelling at the mechanic. Jon, the forgiving little ball of sunshine that he is, had instantly gone back to acting like nothing had happened. Which only caused the heavy gunner to feel _worse._ The Mandalorian found himself apologizing over and over for the whole debacle until, finally, the brunette had told him in no uncertain terms that if Paz kept bringing it up he'd straggle the larger man in his sleep. The threat would actually be relatively easy to accomplish since the two men were still sharing a bed. Not that Paz was going to complain. The smaller man seemed to be sleeping better with this arrangement, so he kept any complaints that he may, or may _not,_ have to himself.

But that doesn't change the fact that Paz is angry. Not at Jon, of course. He's not even, really, mad at himself anymore. He's just angry and really wants to break something. Namely, the person, _monster_ his brain hisses, that was responsible for the damage to his mechanic's back.

The previous evening, while they were both getting ready for sleep the Mandalorian had asked what Jon's surname was, trying to play the whole thing off like he was just curious. Din was still, technically, a bounty hunter and still had ties to the Guild. He figured if that poor excuse for a man was still out there he might be able to bribe the younger _beroya_ into helping him dig up some information on the bastard.

The small man had surprised him by shooting him a flat look and answering his question with a simple shrug.

"You- you don't know what your surname is?"

"Nah, do't rightly care 'either. Da' was't really the type to hold conversations tha' did't end in screamin'."

"He- your mother never told you?"

"Ma' left shortly after I came 'round. Neva' met her. And, for the record, I know wha' cha doin'. I ain't _stupid._ I do't know where he is and I do't righty care, but if he's still an'thing like he was back then well-, " here the man takes a breath, combing a hand through his hair. "-If I'm lucky he passed from liver damage 'while back."

The conversation had left the larger man feeling hollow. While being a Mandalorian wasn't an easy life, by any means, nothing like this would have _ever_ happened under the vigilant eye of their Matriarch. Paz stayed awake, feeling sick, well after Jon succumbed to sleep. And if he pulled the man a little closer, held on a little tighter that night… well, that was no one's business but his own.

Luckily, for him, a distraction arrives on the second day after their argument in the form of the twins.

He feels an immense wave of relief upon returning to the garage, with his mechanic's retrieved food in hand, and finds their familiar ship parked close by his own. Raga and Jon are already there, the woman clasping arms with the two in greeting and the smaller man already inspecting the vessel for damage. He can't help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he watches the two near identical Mandalorians curiously eye the hyperactivate man scampering around the engines of their ship. The smile immediately faulters not a half-second later when Raga says something, he can't hear what from this distance, that causes both of the twins to snap their helms towards her then turn slowly back to look at Jon. He can guess what she said though… His brain has started creating a list of pros and cons for 'offing' Raga. This moment, right here, goes into the 'pros' column. 

"What took you two troublemakers so long to get here," Paz rumbles when he steps closer to the group.

The mechanic appears instantly with a happy chirp of _Food!_ which the Mandalorian hands over without hesitation. The twins don't answer right away, just observing Jon's mannerisms and the way the smaller man leans into Paz' personal space without a hint of fear. The heavy infantryman pulls himself to his full height, crossing his arms over his massive chest and glares down at them. His threat display is somewhat dampened, though, by the happily chattering man pressed flush against his side.

"We had some Imps tailing us. Didn't need them following us back to the covert so we had to deal with them first," one of the twins explains, his brother nods in agreement as they both continue to stare at Jon like he's some sort of oddity.

The man in question either doesn't care or is too oblivious for his own good to notice the attention as he cheerfully devours his lunch. They should really have a talk about that… soon. He's talking a mile a minute in between bites, which is a relief. The somber, quiet Jon of a few days ago had put both Paz _and_ Raga on edge. As Paz had predicted the female Mandalorian had, almost immediately, developed a soft spot for the slim man and the woman took her self-imposed role of the man's older _vod_ very seriously. The larger Mandalorian had found out the hard way that the fastest way to piss off the other warrior was to, apparently, upset Jon. Raga was still whispering death threats to him whenever they got a moment alone after the episode a few days before.

"Jon," Paz called out right as his companion was taking a pause in talking his ear off to shovel another spoonful into his mouth. "I'd like you to meet the twins."

"Do ya have names or is it jus' 'the twins'," the man asked with a curious little tilt of his head. Paz would rather die than admit, in front of Raga at least, that the gesture was adorable.

"Uh, well most people can't tell us apart so just that's fine," the other brother spoke up, sounding unsure of himself.

Jon hummed at that and inclined his head towards the ship behind the brothers.

"Well, at least yer ship's in one piece. I do't see any real damage to it. Though, I'll give it a full once over when I can…," he flicks his eyes up to look at Paz and the Mandalorian was relieved to see a bit of the man's normal mischievousness shining in them. "That is, s'long as ya give me the all clear, big guy."

He grunts at that, considering the words before turning to look at Raga.

"How many ships has he torn apart today?"

The woman eyes Paz from where she's standing just behind the two younger Mandalorians. Her posture and the set of her shoulders betray the way she was still, probably, contemplating his murder.

"Three, not counting the twins'," she huffs.

The heavy gunner's eyes widen in disbelief behind his visor, he's vaguely aware of Jon hissing out the word _traitor_ towards the woman.

"Jon-"

"Paz?"

The man is doing a damn good job of trying to appear innocent. Those wide puppy eyes of his shouldn't be able to do the things that they do to him, but Paz had long accepted that he was doomed to play into this man's whims.

"What did we discuss? About your work habits?"

"Are we talkin' 'bout the part where ya said ya'd tie me to the bed if I refused to rest or the part where I called ya a _di'kut_ worrywart," Jon asked, shifting a little to peer around his bulk to look at Raga. "Did I pronounce tha' right?"

Paz' brain screeches to a halt the moment the Mando'a word slips past the mechanic's lips, he turns his attention to the female Mandalorian. "You're teaching him Mando'a?"

Raga levels the large man with a glare. " _Kaysh ru'tionir_."

The large male feels a spike of jealousy towards his fellow warrior, which is irrational. For all her posturing and teasing he knows the woman would never try anything with the smaller man. She liked him well enough, sure, but their relationship seemed to lean more towards platonic than anything else. Plus, Jon didn't try to invade _her_ personal space like he did with Paz. He grunts when his mechanic knocks one of his knuckles against his beskar breastplate to get his attention.

"Do't pout. I would'a asked ya but ya've been busy."

He glances down at the smaller man but doesn't reply. Jon shifts his weight from one foot to the other at the silence.

"So- am I in trouble?"

"Haven't decided yet," Paz hums.

"'Aight then. Well, lemme know when ya figure it out," the mechanic sighs and goes back to eating his lunch.

*~~*~~*~~*

For all of their apparent hesitation and confusion at the beginning, the twins warmed up to Jon's presence very quickly. It was rare for the mechanic to be spotted without Paz, Raga, or the twins following close behind. Right now, though, all four of the Mandalorians were standing outside of the forge. They had been instructed to wait in the hallway while the small male had been ushered inside, the Matriarch had demanded to speak with the man who had gained the trust of so many of her tribe. 

That had been three standard hours ago and Paz was definitely not panicking. Not even a little… nope, not him.

"If you keep pacing like that you'll wear a trench into the floor," one of the twins pipes up from where they were leaning against the wall.

"If you keep pacing like that I'll shoot you in the foot," Raga spat out, helmet firmly locked on the doorway.

Alright, so Paz was panicking but, at least, it seemed he wasn't alone in this. The other three warriors looked just as on edge as he was.

Running a hand over his helm, he came to a stop, and turned back towards the entrance to the forge. He couldn't hear anything from here except for the normal sound of the flames hissing just beyond the closed doorway.

"What could be taking so long?"

"Have you _met_ , Jon," Raga teased, though it landed a bit flat. "That man can literally talk about nothing for _hours."_

Which was true. The mechanic could, and would, talk about anything, and everything, that came to mind. It wasn't a nervous tick like Paz had originally thought, it was just simply… Jon. At this point the constant chatter was like white noise to the large Mandalorian. A smoothing constant sound that eased his nerves after a stressful day.

"Rork wants to get into Jon's pants."

Paz can't help the chocked noise that emits from his throat at those words, helmet whipping around to stare at the female.

"What?! Who-"

"Brown armor- Jon was yelling at him the other day, he didn't know how to plug an oil leak correctly," Raga explains, tone dismissive in the face of the large man's shock. "I guess he likes them bossy."

This time the Mandalorian makes a noise that sounds oddly like a dying animal.

"I- how," his brain has gone dead, any attempts to resurrect it were failing and Paz was left sputtering out half formed questions. "When-"

"Rork asked me if he was just a mechanic or if he was _your_ mechanic," she huffed, shrugging one armored shoulder.

"What did you tell him," he asks slowly, clenching his teeth around the words.

"I didn't tell him anything," Raga snarls right back, cocking her helm in his direction. "But that is a good question. Is he _just_ a mechanic or is he _your_ mechanic, Vizla?"

They stare at each other for a long, tense moment, the twins carefully glancing between the two from a short distance away.

"- I don't know," he admits with no small amount of shame.

Raga turns her helm slowly back to the doorway, cursing quietly under her breath. "Then you'd better figure it out soon, _or'dinii_."

The sound of the forge's door clicking open resonates through the corridor and causes all four warriors to snap to attention. Jon steps out a moment later, he looks a little dazed but, otherwise, completely unharmed. Paz is in front of the mechanic before he even registers moving. He cautiously reaches out a hand to cup the back of the man's neck while Jon peers up owlishly at him.

"Jon-?"

"She said I could stay-"

He paused at that, canting his helm to the side in confusion. His _Alor_ had already granted permission for the mechanic to stay so he wasn't sure what… oh!

"Permanently," he breathes out, it wasn't a question, but Jon still nods. A hysterical little laugh bubbles up from the man's throat. 

Paz slips his hand down from the smaller man's neck settling it instead in the space between his shoulder blades and _tugs._ Jon goes willingly, gently crashing into the beskar clad chest of the larger man with a startled little noise. The Mandalorian's other hand comes up to wrap around a slim waist, keeping the man against him as he leans forward just enough for his helm to rest in the unruly nest of hair atop his mechanic's head.

" _Olarom yaim, ner kar'ta_ ," he whispers into the brunette locks, Jon hums happily from where he's still buried in the Mandalorian's arms.

*~~*~~*~~*

A new location for the covert is selected nearly fourteen days later. Thanks to Jon's ongoing help the fleet is in better shape than it had been for years, with the exception of one ship.

The mechanic's frustration is palpable as he glares at the older spacecraft from where he's sitting on a crate in the makeshift hanger, food left forgotten in his lap. The last of the covert had made it to Ortix five days prior, the only missing members now being Din, his ex-stormtrooper, and their foundling. In that five days, Jon had been solely focused on repairing this one vessel and it was starting to wear on the man. Every time he managed to track down a problem and fix it, a new issue would arise and the whole process would start over again.

Paz had caught Jon staring into an open panel earlier, eyes unfocused and hair sticking up all directions, the man looked like he'd been there awhile. He'd carefully nudged the overworked man away from the ship and over to a nearby crate, before setting some food into his hands in the hopes of distracting him. It hadn't worked, though at least Jon had managed to eat some of his lunch before going back to glowering at the old gunship like it was the sole source of evil in the galaxy.

"If I burn it- do ya think anyone would be upset?"

The large Mandalorian snorts.

"At this point, that thing is probably better used for scrap."

"I wouldn't disrespect the other ships by usin' cursed metal from that thing," Jon grumbled back, face twisted into a pout. "I got one more thing ta try if it acts up again 'fore I give up completely. We're gonna take it out for a short flight and see if the current repairs hold."

Paz pauses at that, canting his helm towards the mechanic.

"We?"

"Yeah, the twins volunteered to come along."

Something settles in his gut at that. Rork had made a habit of trying to chat up his mechanic recently. Hovering around the man until he, the twins, or, more often than not, Raga would chase him off. The mechanic hadn't minded at first, but with the added stress of trying to track down one problem after another from this one vessel the man was close to losing his patience.

"Just-"

"I know. Be careful," Jon said, rolling his eyes. The smaller man glances across the hanger and lifts his arm in greeting when he spots two identical sets of armor approaching them. "We ain't goin' far. I just wanna see if this thing will actually hold tagether or if I should just leave it in the desert to rust."

Paz hums and nods at the twins when they get close enough. The mechanic sets his food aside and pulls himself up from his seat, stretching any clinks out of his back before moving towards the younger warriors. The Mandalorian watches the three men gather up whatever supplies they might need for the test flight and a few minutes later the hanger is filled with the sound of the old ship's sputtering engines.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz is with the _Alor_ when Raga pushes her way into the forge less than an hour later. Rork and a handful of other Mandalorians are trailing behind, stopping just outside the room.

"Raga? What-"

"We received an encrypted distress call from the _Sunspot_ ," the female blurts out and Paz feels his stomach drop into his boots when he realizes that the name belonged to the old vessel Jon and the twins had taken out earlier.

"What did the message say," their Matriarch asks, turning her golden helm towards the other woman, though her tone remains level he can see the tense set of her shoulders.

"Imperial scouts were spotted in orbit. One fired on the ship, it's status is unknown," the female Mandalorian furiously replies. "We received an incomplete nav-point before the line went dead."

Their _Alor_ turns her helm towards him, considering the options available to them before…

"Ready the fleet. We depart in less than one standard hour-"

"But _Alor_ -," the heavy gunner shifts, dread pumping through his veins along with adrenaline. His hands begin to shake.

"You-," she inclines her head towards the heavy infantryman, her voice carrying over the disapproving murmer from those in the corridor. "-will gather a force to retrieve our fallen _vod'e_ then meet at the new covert location."

Paz straightens at the order, nodding curtly before turning to leave the forge, Raga falls into step right behind him.

" _Yaimpar at mhi oyayc, Paz Vizla_ ," the Armor calls after them, but Paz barely hears her over the sound of the blood rushing in his ears.

The Imperials have attacked their tribe and disturbed the hornet nest hidden within the caves below the planet's sandy dunes. 

They will come to regret this decision. 

Paz will make sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beroya- bounty hunter  
> Vod- brother/sister  
> di'kut- idiot  
> Mando'a- language of the Mandalorians  
> Kaysh ru'tionir- he asked  
> Or'dinii- moron  
> Olarom yaim, ner kar'ta- Welcome home, my heart.  
> Alor- leader  
> Vod'e- bothers/sisters, plural for brother/sister  
> Yaimpar at mhi oyayc- Return to us alive/Don't die (basically)


	7. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon realizes that he might be a little dumb. Raga has a plan. Paz wants his mechanic back. The twins have concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to WizardMoonwhisper AGAIN for putting up with my shenanigans
> 
> Sorry for the late chapter. I am still getting over a cold.

Finding the wreckage wasn't difficult. The incomplete nav-point the covert received, along with the distress call, turned out to be unnecessary. The trail of dark smoke curling into the clear sky was easy enough to spot, as was the long gouge of burnt metal and debris the ship had left behind in the wake of its 'landing'. The sight caused Paz' stomach to twist painfully. There weren't any signs of Imperial forces by the time they touched down, leaving the area eerily quiet and devoid of life. 

He was the first to exit their ship, Raga and the two others they'd brought as back-up following close behind. As soon as his boots touched the dust of the planet a blip appeared on his HUD, a moment later another sprang to life along with the first. Looking up at the old vessel, Paz was almost confident that, even with Jon's skill, this thing was done. He couldn't even tell where the front of the damn thing was anymore, most of it appeared to be buried in the grit surrounding them. He moved cautiously toward the signals as the others spread out to flank him, picking their way through the remains slowly. The heavy gunner rounded a near intact durasteel wall plating, and came face to face with the twins. Well, helm to blaster. One of the brothers cursed quietly in Mando'a before lowering the weapon away from where it had been posed to discharge point-blank in his face.

"Paz-," the twin breathed out in relief.

They didn't look too worse for wear. One of the brothers sported a nasty looking gash on their bicep, but their armor had done the job of taking the brunt of the damage. As relieved as he was to see his younger _vod_ in one piece, the scene was still far too kriffing quiet. Raga appeared in his peripherals a moment later as he scanned the ruined metal around them.

"Where is Jon," Paz growls out, eyes flicking about their position, looking for that familiar head of unruly brunette hair.

"They- the Troopers- they took him-"

"What," he and Raga exclaimed at the same time, snapping their helms up to gape at the two.

"Arsu-," Azizos nods to his injured brother. "-was trapped under some paneling. Took awhile for me to dig him out. Jon- he distracted the Imps. Somehow, convinced them he was the only one on the ship. They took him, Paz."

Raga is letting loose a string of curses in Mando'a next to him, but her voice seems far away. A sense of panic is slowly beginning to bubble up in his gut, his hands begin to shake against his will. The mechanic's health had improved in the time he'd spent with Paz, but he was no fighter, and his complete lack of survival instincts proved as much. Jon wouldn't last long in the hands of the Imps, especially if they manage to deliver him to Moff Gideon. He stamps down that thought with a snarl, he cannot lose focus now. He has to find Jon… _but how?_ His ever-traitorous brain pipes up. _You have no way of knowing where they took him…_

A series of beeps ring out within the ruins of the downed ship, pulling Paz back to the present. He whips his helm towards Raga, who has one vambrace opened and is looking over the small screen hidden underneath.

"Is- is that a tracker," the heavy infantryman numbly asks, hope blossoming in his chest.

Paz isn't sure how the woman succeeds in giving him a dry look through the helmet, he'll have to ask later. It would probably come in handy when dealing with Jon.

"You mentioned getting him one when you first arrived," Raga mutters, annoyance clear in her voice. "Thought you were just over-reacting, but after getting to know Jon- I started thinking it wasn't such a bad idea."

"You put a tracker on my mechanic?"

Raga pauses, tilting her head before answering.

"Well, _you_ never got around to it!"

"I- okay, that's fair-"

Raga snaps her attention back down to her vambrace when the damn thing lets out a shrill noise. The female warrior turns away from Paz and the twins, holding her wrist up to try to pinpoint the direction the signal is coming from. He holds his breath as she slowly lowers her arm a few minutes later to glance back at the group of Mandalorians.

"They haven't left the planet yet."

There's a feeling of relief at the news, but the heavy gunner can't shake the foreboding sense of dread that's hanging over him.

*~~*~~*~~*

Jon is an idiot. He knows he isn't necessarily _stupid_ , he just tends to not think things through all the time. Well, most of the time, actually.

Which leads him into situations like this. Laying face down under the scorching sun of this dust ball planet with a Stormtrooper's boot pressing painfully between his shoulder blades.

As terrible as this whole ordeal was, he'd rather this outcome than allowing these pricks anywhere near the twins or the covert. That’s why he'd scrambled up to intercept the platoon before either of the Mandalorians could draw their blasters. It wasn't a difficult choice, one of the brothers had been pinned under some metal after the crash, and the troopers had descended upon them before they were able to dig him out. If Azizos had engaged the bucketheads in a shootout, he knew he wouldn't have had the physical strength to get the other brother free, so Jon had made a call. It was better that the brothers survived this than some scrawny mechanic, anyway. Paz was going to be so pissed at him…

Jon thought Stormtroopers were supposed to be smarter than this, or maybe this particular group just wasn't that sharp. It had taken surprisingly little time to convince the group that he had been the only one on the _Sunspot_ . That, of course, didn't mean that the troopers hadn't moved towards the ship to start searching after handcuffing him. But, again, another well placed lie about how the crash had destabilized the fuel rods and the whole damn thing was likely to explode soon had caused the platoon to pause. Ultimately, the Imps had decided that it wasn't worth the risk to keep looking through the twisted metal. Kriffing idiots. If these guys didn't even know enough to realize this model of ship didn't _use_ fuel rods, well Jon would just count himself lucky that they didn't seem to have someone with half a brain on the team.

It was obvious this group had only meant to be a patrol if their tiny, ratty ship was anything to go by. If it wasn't for the fact they had surprised Jon and the twins in that cursed hunk of malfunctioning steel, the Stormtroopers probably wouldn't have lasted very long against a true Mandalorian warship. The small man really hopes the _Sunspot_ spends the rest of its poor existence baking in the sweltering desert heat of this hellhole. Piece of crap ship…

Their squad leader had tossed him into the back of the cargo hold with two, rather apathetic, gentlemen to stand 'guard' over the mechanic. That had been a mistake. It hadn't taken long to shimmy a corner of the wall paneling loose just enough for him to slip a few fingers through. Imperial ships were notoriously poorly designed, he remembered reading over some blueprints when he was younger and wondering how an army with such dangerously constructed ships had managed to last this long. Honestly, who thought it would be a good idea to put the environmental heating system right next to the fuel tank?

He couldn't see the wires threading through his digits, and looking over his shoulder would have brought too much attention his way, but he took a guess and _pulled_. Nothing happened at first and his heart sank. Had that not been the connectors to the main battery? Had he miscalculated?

A half-second later, alarms blared from the cockpit and the whole ship banked hard to starboard. He didn't have time to catch himself before he slammed hard into the durasteel wall, hearing something pop in his right shoulder at the impact, pain flared up his whole arm in the aftermath. The agony was cut short a moment later when his head cracked against the floor and everything went black.

Coming to wasn't fun. Everything hurt, especially his head and there was a horrible taste of copper in his mouth, though his arm was numb. _Huh, tha's pro'ably not a good sign._

He tried to right himself from where he laid on the cold metal of the cargo hold and almost succeeded, but a gloved hand came down to tangle painfully in his hair. Jon cried out when that same hand yanked his head back so he could stare up at the enraged face of the Stormtrooper’s fearless leader.

"What did you do," the man hissed out, face reddening when Jon’s only reply was a shrug and a crooked smirk.

The general, or whoever this guy was because he certainly wasn't wearing the normal white armor of the other nameless soldiers, snarled in disgust before tossing the mechanic at the feet of his two guards from earlier.

"Drag him outside," the man spat out. "Do not take your eyes off him again!"

The guards had pulled him outside to sit in the sand under the blaring, hot sun while the rest of the troopers scurried around the vessel trying to locate the source of the power outage. When a few of the soldiers marched outside to join them nearly an hour later, the small man was flagging, heatstroke was probably setting in and his arm was starting to throb. The troopers were followed by their leader a moment later, that's when the questions had started.

_What did he do to their ship?_ Jon had merely snarked back with his own question by asking if they made a habit of traveling without a proper mechanic on board. He was rewarded for his sass with a left hook to the jaw.

_How do they fix it?_ The mechanic had just grinned up at the man through blood stained teeth. This time he was kicked in the ribs.

_Did he work for the Mandalorians?_ That actually pulled a snort from him. A heavy boot landed in his gut and Jon tipped over with a wheeze. Just going by the way it was becoming painful to even breathe now, he assumed a few ribs had been broken.

For a while the man simply rained blows down on the mechanic, likely taking his own frustrations out on the smaller male since he wasn't really asking anymore questions. _Not like he was gonna get any answers._

"Where is the Assist?!"

"Tha' wha'," Jon gasped out, spitting out a mouthful of blood at the man's feet.

A Trooper came up and pressed his heel into the mechanic's back. There was the sound of a blaster charging just over his head as the Squadron leader growled out a sound of irritation.

Huh, so this was how he was going to go out? Honestly, Jon hadn't seen this particular end coming, but if it meant the covert was safe, that his _family_ was safe… well, he was okay with this.

When the blaster went off it sounded oddly far away, echoing out through the dunes like a crack of thunder. Jon blinked as the Trooper pinning him to the sand suddenly keeled over. He glanced to the side where the soldier now lay motionless, spotting a scorched hole cutting clean through the white helmet. _Huh._

All hell broke loose on the platoon after that, and Jon couldn't quite keep up with the rapidly blurring scene around him, but his ears did pick up the voices of Raga and the twins within in the storm of blaster fire. He could feel his eyelids drifting closed, the sounds of the firefight fading in and out. _I'll jus' rest my eyes fer a bit…_

He jolted awake a moment later when a familiar pair of boots came into view. When had he fallen asleep? Paz dropped to his knees next to his side, ripping off one of his gloves with a growl and tentatively reached out to run trembling fingers through his hair.

"Hey, there han’some," he croaked out, grimacing at the scratch in his throat.

He heard the heavy gunner let out a wet sounding laugh at that.

"How-," Jon's voice cut off there, throat too dry to keep forming words.

"Raga apparently has a tracker on you," Paz explained, it sounded like he was having trouble breathing.

He frowns at that, but immediately the subject is forgotten as he's turned gently over onto his back, he's vaguely aware of the larger man shushing him when the mechanic lets out a whine of discomfort at being moved. With a gentleness that most wouldn't think Paz capable of, but Jon had come to know quite well, the large male slipped his arms under the mechanic and stood. He couldn't stop the scream from ripping its way out of his parched throat, his body lighting up with pain. Paz cradled him through the convulsions, his battered body trying to shy away from the gentle touch but not having the energy or coordination to get his muscles to respond properly.

He presses his face into the beskar armored chest of his Mandalorian as the man turns to call out for someone. He isn't far enough into his Mando'a studies to understand what's being said over his head, but he can pick up on the urgency in the voices. It's getting harder to stay awake now, his eyes slipping closed against his will.

He's lulled back into the unconsciousness of a hopefully painless sleep by Paz' continued rumbling and the helm he can feel nosing lightly over the top of his head.

"I've got you. You're safe, Jon. You're safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vod- brother/sister  
> Mando'a- language of the Mandalorians
> 
> Y'all should know this by now, right? :D


	8. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family is back together.
> 
> Fluff and family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a another shoutout to WizardMoonwhisper as is customary payment for her beta reading and endless patience when dealing with my shenanigans on a near-daily basis. 💙

Jon was an idiot. A self-sacrificing, insane idiot.

But he was _Paz'_ idiot and he would be damned if this moron thought for a moment that the Mandalorian was going to let him die like this.

The mechanic was in rough shape, there was no arguing with the obvious. With the help of one of the twins, Paz had been able to clean him up as best they could so he could assess the extent of the man's injuries. He tries to ignore the amount of blood soaking into the man's clothes and hair, tries to be grateful that Jon was still breathing, albeit shallowly. Both he, and Azizos, are stunned at what they find hiding under layers of dust and grime.

There wasn't an inch of the man's torso not covered in darkening bruises, and Paz was fairly certain several of his ribs were broken. His right shoulder is dislocated, the heavy gunner relieved that the man was still out cold when he has to pop it back into place. The swelling to one side of Jon's head was concerning and when the larger man pulls open his eyelids to check the pupils underneath, he discovers the mechanic was sporting another concussion. The heat radiating off the smaller body is a major problem too. Paz finally opted to turn the environmental temperature in the cabin down several degrees to hopefully combat the rising fever.

They don't have a lot in the way of medical supplies on board and even less in the way of training. Whatever they do have goes towards patching up the smaller male and closing the gash on Arsu's arm. Once Paz is sure he's done all he can for his mechanic he settles down on the floor next to the cot and pulls one of Jon's hands into his own, bare fingers pressing into the pulse point on a thin wrist. He'd tried to shoo the brothers away to get some rest earlier, but the twins had refused to leave the mechanic's side, choosing instead to curl up at the end of the bed like two overgrown guard dogs.

Raga comes down a few minutes later after handing off the ship's controls to one of the other armored warriors. She pauses next to the dozing forms of the twins long enough to drape a blanket over the pair before stepping closer to the large man. She slides down the wall to rest next to him and reaches out to place a hand on one of his pauldrons.

"He'll be okay, Paz," she whispers, pressing down firmly on his shoulder when he doesn't respond. "You hear me? He is going to be _okay_."

He lets out a shaky breath at that, turning his helm slowly towards his _vod_.

"And if he's not?"

"If he's not-," Raga resolutely replies, hissing out the words through her teeth. "Then we give him an honorable burial. He deserves as much for what he did for the twins."

They lapse into a short silence after that, the only sound in the room Jon's raspy inhalations of breath and the brothers' soft snores.

"I'm never taking my eyes off him again," he mutters, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the pale wrist in his grasp.

"I'm pretty sure after this, the entire covert will help you keep tabs on him," Raga chuckles softly. "The foundlings love him, so he'll have an entire pack of over-protective _buirs_ to watch over him."

He snorts at the mental image that conjures up.

"How long until we reach our destination?"

Raga hums in thought, allowing her helmet to tip back against the wall with a quiet _thump_.

"Normally it would take nearly a full cycle but-," she turns her head to regard Jon's silent form. "I'm pushing the engines so a few hours, maybe."

"He'd be pissed if he knew you were stressing the systems like that."

"Yeah, well. He can be pissed at me safely back in the covert after seeing a proper medic."

The heavy gunner nods at that, the adrenaline was starting to wear off, exhaustion seeping into his pores. Raga must have noticed because her helm turns thoughtfully towards him before she leans over to bump her shoulder against his arm.

"Try and get some sleep, Paz. I got first watch."

*~~*~~*~~*

She can feel sleep tugging at her lids but refuses to allow her eyes to slip closed.

She had promised Paz that she would watch over them as they slept. She meant to keep that promise.

Beside her, the man has curled over to place his helm against Jon's cot, one of the mechanic's wrists caught firmly in a large hand. His breath had evened out a while ago and he's probably going to have a crick in his neck from the awkward position, but the woman doesn't wake him. They probably won't be able to pull the larger Mandalorian away from the mechanic's side after this whole debacle. And, if Raga was being honest with herself, she and the twins would probably be sticking close by too.

She had almost lost a member of her _aliit_ today.

She releases a trembling breath at the thought. She had failed to protect her _vod'e_.

Raga would _not_ fail again.

*~~*~~*~~*

A few hours later, Paz woke with probably the worst neck pain he'd ever experienced, and that was saying something since he'd slept in a variety of uncomfortable places since taking the Creed. He pushes a hissing breath through his teeth as he slowly props himself up from the slumped position over the makeshift bed, rolling his shoulders to try and ease some of the discomfort.

A half second later, his helm snaps to Jon's form on the cot and his breath catches in his throat.

The mechanic is awake, pale green eyes watching him silently from the thin mattress he'd been leaning against only a moment earlier. The small man tries to give him a smile when he sees the Mandalorian looking his way, but it comes out more like a grimace. Paz feels something relax in his chest at the sight of his mechanic awake. Sure, Jon was probably in a lot of pain, but he was awake and seemed to be coherent.

He bows forward, gently pressing their foreheads together and just breaths for a moment. He hears the brunette let out a gasp when the cold metal of the helm makes contact with his brow, one of Paz’ larger hands comes up to brush against the side of the man's face. The fever seems to have lowered a bit but there's still an unhealthy amount of heat emitting off the man's skin. He should pull back, check over the mechanic's other injuries, but Paz can't bring himself to move just yet. The sounds of the ship fade away in the background as he hovers over the man, his bare fingers delicately roaming over the bruised face. Jon's eyes flutter close at the touch, a pleased little sigh slipping past his lips.

He desperately wants for this moment to last forever.

It doesn't.

The twins jolt awake at the foot of the cot, startling them apart. Jon lets out a cry of pain at the sudden movement. 

Raga stumbles into the room at the noise, blaster in hand.

A beat of silence settles over the room as the Mandalorians try to process what had just happened. 

It's broken by a snort of laughter from the injured man.

"Ugh," Jon groans, grinning up at Paz from the bed. "Laughin' kriffin' _hurts_."

Paz lets out a sigh at the same time Raga lowers her weapon while, somehow, glaring at the mechanic through her T-shaped visor.

*~~*~~*~~*

Their relief is short lived. Jon drifts in and out of consciousnesses over the course of the next several hours. At times he seems completely cognizant of his surroundings, at others he shies away from them like he's still seeing those Stormtroopers reaching out from the shadows.

It physically pains Paz to see the man like this and going by how the others linger uncertainly around the corners of the room, he can tell he isn't the only one feeling out of his element here.

They're approaching the new location of the covert when Raga appears again in the doorway of the cabin. Paz is leaning back against the wall, elbows resting on his drawn-up knees, watching the three others rest on the bed.

Jon had woken a few minutes ago in a panic-stricken state, clawing at the unseen monsters his delirious mind had fabricated. He'd only calmed when the twins had crawled into the bunk with him, carefully arranging themselves around the mechanic like a living beskar barrier.

Raga takes in the scene silently, tilting her helm in question at him. Paz merely shrugs a massive shoulder, too tired to explain.

"How close are we?"

"We'll land within the next half hour. I commed ahead. They'll have a medic ready for us as soon as we arrive," the woman quietly informs, inching closer to inspect the tangle of limbs on the thin mattress. Paz watches her shake her helmet fondly at the sight. "The _Alor_ was notified as well."

The heavy gunner straightens at that, suddenly tense. "I could have given her a report once-"

"You'll stay with Jon," the woman snarls out, leaving no room for argument. "The _Alor_ knows what's happened- what he did for Arsu. She'll not try to pull you away from your _cyar'ika_ while he's recovering. This is the way."

"This is the way," he numbly repeats. He hears the twins mumbling their own quiet replies from the cot.

" _Vor entye_."

"What's this," the woman teases back, shifting her weight to one hip and crossing her arms over an armored chest. "Have you started picking up manners now, _or'dinii_ ? Maybe, you're spending _too_ much time around Jon."

Paz does _not_ pout at that and firmly ignores the low snickering from the armored forms curled around his mechanic.

*~~*~~*~~*

The new location of the covert is within the catacombs under a large, sprawling city. Instead of tearing down or replacing buildings, the people of this world just seemed to keep building on top of the older structures. This left a maze of empty and forgotten tunnels securely hidden underneath the feet of its citizens. The perfect home for a covert of secretive Mandalorians.

True to Raga's word, there is a medic waiting for them at their landing zone. Paz recognizes the green armor as belonging to Ghas, a male only a few years younger than himself but well respected among their tribe for his medical expertise. 

The heavy gunner has Jon bundled securely in his arms as they disembark from their vessel, he can feel the many vigilant eyes of his other armored brethren observing from the many darkened alleyways. Raga leads them towards the waiting healer and the twins flank either side of him, tense and watchful of their surroundings.

Ghas takes one look at Jon and hisses out a gust of air through his teeth. So, Paz is guessing that's not a good sign.

"You killed the Imps, right," the man asks, leaning forward to get a better look at the bruised face of the mechanic.

He doesn't deign the question with an answer, merely tightening his hold a little on the smaller body in his arms. The medic watches him for a moment, then nods.

"Good. Come on, we have a medbay already set up below. Let's get him under some better lighting so I can actually see the damage."

Ghas takes point, advancing towards a building close by. Once inside, he leads the group through a doorway that's being guarded by several other Mandalorians, each looking like they are geared for an all-out assault. The sentinels spare them curt nods of greeting, a few tossing what Paz can only guess as sympathetic glances towards their injured _vod_. They descend through the building slowly, the covert has yet to completely map out the labyrinth of twisting corridors so it would be all too easy for them to lose their path if they aren't cautious.

Finally, their descent ends in a passageway that must connect at some point with the covert's housing, Paz can hear the faint echoing sounds of foundlings playing in the distance. He doesn't have long to dwell on the relief that the youngest of their tribe have made it safe and sound to their new home because suddenly they are waved into a large room off to the left.

Ghas motions towards a gurney within the room and the large Mandalorian hesitantly lowers Jon onto it, eyeing the medley of medical equipment around them.

The medic sets to work, hands gentle but professional as they move over the numerous wounds littering Jon's body. Occasionally, the heavy gunner picks up a muttered curse in Mando'a from Ghas but mostly the man works in silence. Paz and his _vod'e_ settle in to wait, he contemplates telling the twins to go get some rest but from the way the two are currently safeguarding the only entrance to the room he suspects the suggestion wouldn't go over well.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz loses track of time. He's aware of Raga leaving at some point and returning shortly… Was it shortly?... some time later. Arsu and Azizos have staked out a claim to the one of the other gurneys close to the door. They seem to be taking shifts monitoring anyone attempting to enter the medbay. Ghas doesn't try to stop them. Maybe because the medic has his hands full with his patient or, maybe, because he realizes it would be futile to argue with the twins, Paz isn't sure.

For his part, the heavy gunner hovers at the edge of the medic's work space. Watching as the man hooks his mechanic up to several IV bags and finishes wrapping clean gauze over the bruised torso. The healer steps back after what feels like an eternity and swipes a gloved hand over the top of his green helm as he looks over his handy work.

Paz steps up next to the younger Mandalorian, he hears the rest of his _aliit_ shifting in the background at the movement, suddenly on alert.

"Four broken ribs, three more are at least bruised, maybe fractured," Ghas shrugs a weary shoulder as he lists off the injuries. "The saline drips should take care of the dehydration-"

"And the fever," Paz quietly interjects.

"It's starting to lower on its own, but I have something in the IVs to help _keep_ it down just to be on the safe side," here the medic pauses, tilting his head up to regard the taller man next to him. "You took care of fixing the dislocated shoulder, so other than some swelling I'm not seeing any reason it shouldn't heal perfectly fine-"

"But?"

"But the concussion is a major concern. He was still recovering from one when you two arrived on Ortix, right?"

The large man nods, not taking his eyes off Jon's still form.

The doctor tips his head back with a sigh.

"Multiple concussions over a short period of time isn't good. It could cause some issues but- honestly, at this point it’s too early to tell. How did he act on the trip here? Any unusual behavior?"

"He- sometimes he knew we were there but-"

"Sometimes he seemed confused," Ghas guesses, nodding when Paz grunts in the affirmative. "Not surprising. Concussions can be- problematic. I haven't had to deal with many since, well-," he taps a knuckle to his own helmet. "We'll just have to monitor him for a while."

"But he'll recover?"

The healer's helm cants to the side as he glances at the heavy gunner.

"I don't see why not. It might take some time and a lot of bacta but he'll live."

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz had assumed, just by going off the number of injuries, that their mechanic would be spending quite some time in the covert’s medical center. So he’s a little startled when the healer declares that Jon is well enough to leave the medbay after only two days, with supervision of course.

He suspects it's because the healer isn't prepared for the volley of words flowing out of the smaller male once he wakes. The medic had been prepared for dealing with an injured patient, what he had not been ready to deal with was a _bored_ Jon. After only a couple of standard days of trying to contain the hyperactive mechanic the medic had all but admitted defeat. The heavy gunner had his suspicions that the Ghas was seriously contemplating just anesthetizing the smaller male and he wouldn’t have blamed the medic if it had come down to it.

It definitely _isn't_ because Paz and the twins had rebuffed any attempts to get them to leave the mechanic alone for any stretch of time.

The medic does give Jon a stern warning against any physical activity while he was still healing though. Yeah, good luck with that…

"You're on bed rest. No working on ships- You know, what? The most exercise I want you to have is the short walk to and from the refresher."

"So, wha' am I s'ppose ta do on bed rest?"

"- Rest?"

The answer got a sour look from Jon and Ghas had slowly glanced at Paz over the top of the man's head with a look that he could only describe as ' _is he being serious right now'._

Once they'd left the medbay, walking at a much slower pace to accommodate the man's still healing ribs, Jon had thrown Paz a devious little grin.

"Do't s'ppose I can talk ya inta lettin' me take a look at the fleet."

Paz chose not to answer that. The twins snorted from where they were following close behind while Raga begins quietly cursing in Mando'a about _di'kut mechanics_ from her place at the head of the group _._

"I'm guessin' tha's a no,” the brunette whines, jutting out his bottom lip in a clear pout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buir- mother/father  
> Aliit- family  
> Vod'e- plural for brother/sister  
> Vod- singular for brother/sister  
> Alor- leader  
> Cyar'ika- beloved  
> Vor entye- Thank you  
> Or'dinii- moron


	9. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz and Jon talk a bit. Raga is overprotective this time. And the twins are just along for the ride.
> 
> Corin and Din are mentioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sending love to my amazing beta reader, WizardMoonwhisper! Without whom we would have a lot more run-on sentences and far too few commas.

Jon was _upset_.

So, okay, maybe just maybe he had had a rough encounter with a bunch of Stormtroopers and almost paid the price for it, but he was _fine_.

Try telling that to a pack of over-protective, armored idiots.

Or, more specifically, try telling that to the giant, blue armored idiot currently responsible for making him _think_ about… things.

It wasn't that Jon was dumb, far from it. He was able to fix almost anything electronic if you put it in his hands, but socially speaking he wasn't the sharpest tool in the garage. People confused him more often than not. He could probably blame some of that confusion on his shitty upbringing, but he also knew it was part of his personality. Jon didn't have a filter, because he didn't see the point in having one to begin with. Not to say he was an ass. The mechanic knew when to hold his tongue on sensitive topics. He just couldn't understand for the life of him why people just didn't say what they meant. Or, in this case, why Paz didn't just _kriffin'_ say something!

The mechanic sighed, then grimaced when the action caused a searing pain to flare up in his still healing ribs. Paz shoots him a _look_ from where he was sitting on the floor of their shared room. The big guy had been hovering ever since he'd been released from the med bay a few days prior, not allowing the smaller man out of his sight for an extended period of time. Normally, Jon wouldn't mind the attention, he actually liked spending time with his Mandalorian. This felt different though and it was starting to wear on his nerves.

Paz had been acting strange, too. At times the Mandalorian acted like himself, quiet but happily accepting of Jon's affections.

Other times, he was stand-offish. He pulled back like the touch burned him and hesitated when reaching out, like he feared he might cause the smaller man to shatter.

So, Jon was left confused, upset, and forced to consider his options here. Thinking never was his strong suit.

Now if his mouth could just stay closed until he came up with a game plan that'd be fantastic…

"Should I jus' go?"

Well, there went that idea…

Paz froze, looking up from where he was currently inspecting his armor.

"What?"

"I- you-," the mechanic made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat as his words jumbled together. This didn't happen very often, but when it did, it left the man irritated with his inability to communicate.

"Jon?"

He took a deep breath, using the spike of pain the action caused to help him focus, and blew out heavily through his nose.

"Ya've been hoverin' but, like, more than usual," he tried explaining with a dismissive wave of his uninjured arm. "I do't know! Jus' seems like- Ya might be angry?"

A silence fell over the room. Paz tilted his helm just slightly, but kept his visor firmly locked on the smaller man.

"Do- Did you think I was angry at _you_ ," the Mandalorian asked, voice strained. The question caught Jon off guard. _Wait, so he wasn't?_

The man blinked, tilting his own head to match the Mandalorian's posture.

"Maybe, I do't know," Jon huffed, annoyed. "Not like ya've _said_ anything ta me but I know I can be hard to handle so-"

"Okay, no. Stop," Paz growled out, surging to his feet and stalking towards the bed. "You aren’t 'hard to handle' Jon! You- kriff-"

Jon blinked up at him, raising a brow at the interruption. Even without the rest of his armor Paz made an impressive sight towering over the mechanic. Having the massive Mandalorian standing over him like this shouldn't cause heat to pool in his stomach like it was, but damn if this wasn't something the small man was etching into his memory for later.

For a moment, the Mandalorian just stared down at where Jon was seated on their bed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, gathering his thoughts.

"I'm not mad at you," the large man finally bit out, running a hand over his helmet with a sigh. "I'm mad because you got hurt. Because I wasn't there to stop it."

The brunette hummed, nodding. _Okay, that made sense but…_

"Why are ya scared ta touch me?"

Paz made a pained noise at that and Jon couldn't help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at the sound.

"Kriff! You're doing that on purpose," the Mandalorian groaned.

"Well, ya wo't let me work so I got to entertain myself somehow," he teased right back, watching as Paz' shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You could hang out with the twins instead of tormenting me-"

"They wo't let me work neither."

Paz snorted and the mood in the room shifted at the sound, lightening. The knot of worry that had formed in Jon's chest unraveled just the tiniest bit.

"I'm afraid I might hurt you," Paz finally forced out, unsure of himself.

The mechanic made a confused sound and narrowed his eyes at the man in front of him.

"Ya sure ya aren't the one with the head injury, big guy?"

When the larger man didn’t answer, it was Jon's turn to snort.

"So, I'm injured and ya do't want to cause more problems. I get that, but- let me finish-," Jon hissed when it looked like the Mandalorian was going to interrupt again. "- would ya, ever, hurt me on purpose?"

"Never," was the immediate response. Not that Jon had expected anything different.

"Then ya aren't gonna hurt me on accident," he stated firmly, making sure to look directly into Paz' visor where he knew the man's eyes were.

The Mandalorian hesitated for a moment then carefully leaned down into Jon's space, lightly pressing his helm into his hair. The mechanic made a pleased sound at the cool touch of metal and shifted over on the bed when the large male moved closer.

Paz pulled him flush against his side as he settled his weight on their cot, curling around him and shifting so their foreheads met.

"'Bout time ya kissed me," Jon whispered, grinning up at the man when he felt him jerk in surprise.

The large man paused but didn't pull away. Jon snuggled closer, soaking up the affection from his Mandalorian while he waited.

"How did-," Paz started but a moment later sighed. "Raga."

"Raga," Jon confirmed. "I did ask her ta teach me Mando'a. _Kov'nyn_ \- er- Keldabe kiss was one of the first things she taught me 'bout."

"Of course, she did."

Jon snorted, pressing his grin into one of his Mandalorian's collarbones. 

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz was pleased that he wasn't the only one coddling his mechanic. Raga practically growled at anyone that gave the smaller man a second glance, and several of the other Mandalorians were keeping a close eye on the brunette, though at a respectable distance.

And the twins seemed to have adopted Jon as a third brother, which was… something.

"This is weird, right," Raga questions from where she's standing next to the heavy gunner, watching the three interact.

The twins always had an odd way of communicating with each other without the use of words, either through hand gestures or body language. No one had been able to crack their particular code before, until Jon shoved his way into their little clan. At first, Paz had assumed that Jon was just doing what Jon always did… fill silence with an endless stream of words. It wasn't until Raga pointed it out that he had realized that the mechanic was holding a full conversation with the two. He may not have been able to replicate the same subtle use of gestures to respond the way the twins did, but that didn't mean he was just rambling to himself. Arsu or Azizos would sign something to the smaller man and he'd decipher it in less than a second, then respond in Basic or, more recently, Mando'a.

Which meant Raga and Paz were only privy to half of their conversation. If the heavy gunner hadn't watched the twins both scold his mechanic for trying to push his still healing body too hard Paz might have been more suspicious. However, Arus and Azizos seemed to be doing a good job of keeping Jon's mind busy while he was still recovering.

Paz adamantly refuses to acknowledge that hearing Mando'a slipping from Jon's lips _does_ things to him. Nope, not going there. Not until he and the smaller man had another conversation at least.

"You taught him about _kov'nyn_ ," Paz grumbles. He wasn't pouting. Mandalorians did _not_ pout.

"You were taking too long," Raga stated with a shrug, completely unashamed. "Jon wanted to learn and it is my duty as his _vod_ to ensure he is taught properly, is it not?"

"You did it to spite me."

"That too."

Paz sighed, tipping his helm back towards the ceiling.

"You're still mad about the- incident in the hangar?"

"Jon accepted your apology but I am not so quick to forgive, Vizla," the woman hissed. "You do not need to strike him to cause pain."

"I know," he whispers, guilt clawing at his chest. "It will not happen again."

"No, it won't. Because if it does, I will beat your head in with your own helmet."

Paz takes the warning to heart.

Raga was not one to make threats lightly.

*~~*~~*~~*

Jon heals, albeit slowly. The concussion doesn't appear to leave any lasting damage other than a few missing details from his capture. The missing bits of memory would have alarmed Paz if Ghas hadn't seemed pleased by the man's progress.

"They may resurface, given some time," the medic explained, tone light as he examined Jon's scalp. "Or they may not. Head injuries are tricky like that."

His ribs are the injury that seem to have the most lingering effect on the mechanic. They leave him sore, exhausted, and short of breath when he tries to bend or move in any way his body doesn't agree with. Paz can feel the frustration rolling off his mechanic when a sharp lance of pain forces him to rest. Jon is used to constant movement and not being able to _do something_ leaves him feeling… the only way the heavy gunner can describe it is 'lost,' and Paz has no idea how he can help.

Surprisingly, it is his _Alor_ that comes up with a solution.

Paz blinks down at the twisted mess of metal and wires that's been handed to him by his matriarch.

"Your _cyar'ika_ is good with his hands, yes?"

The Mandalorian preens at the endearment used to describe the other man.

"I- yes, he has fixed many of our ships-"

"Good," she cuts off his explanation with a wave of her hand. "See if he can repair that."

The large man hesitates for a moment, cocking his helm curiously at the pile of barely held together electronics in his hands… at least he _thinks_ it was once a pile of electronics. It's a little hard to tell at the moment.

"That was salvaged from the vessel of our enemies your mechanic brought down," the Armorer explains, and Paz has to force himself not to drop the cursed hunk of metal out of disgust. "Our scouts believe that to be the ship's black box. If Jon could repair it, we may be able to use it to gain some information or, even, track any Imperial movement in our sector."

His helm snaps up to look at the woman at those words. To anyone else her posture may speak of indifference, but Paz had known his _Alor_ long enough to see the barely concealed lines of humor in her shoulders.

"Even if he is unable to repair it-," the woman hums, turning her back on him to focus her full attention on the forge. "It might make a good distraction while he recovers."

*~~*~~*~~*

As much as he finds annoying Din one of his favorite pastimes, he can't help but worry about the _beroya_ and his small clan when there has been no sightings of them for months. After all, he has no real problem with the man, it's just too easy to tease him ruthlessly over trivial matters. So, he feels a rush of relief when he returns to his own family after leaving the forge to find they had received a message from the _Razor Crest_.

He and Raga are fully engrossed in a conversation about the news in Mando'a when Jon's head swizzles around to peer at the large Mandalorian. He's seated between the twins, who had been helping him pick apart the electronic nightmare Paz had delivered into the bored hands of the mechanic.

"Who's Din," the brunette asks with a little head tilt that causes Paz' heart to kriffing flip within his ribcage. His mind goes blank as he stares down into those wide green eyes, breath catching in his throat.

He's brought back to reality by the sound of Raga's amused snort.

"Lovesick, _di'kut_ ," the woman huffs at Paz before glancing down at the mechanic. "I'm glad to see you've been paying attention to my lessons, but maybe don't use that knowledge to eavesdrop?"

"Where's tha fun in that?"

"Fair point," Raga hums. "Din is _Mando'ade_ , part of this covert. He and his clan have been away for- awhile."

Jon nods at the answer, seems to consider his next words before…

"Is he the one travelin’ with the ex-trooper?"

All four Mandalorians freeze at the question.

"How-," Paz sputters and stops talking when his mechanic scowls up at him.

"I know I talk a lot Paz, but I listen too, ya know."

Right, of course. Jon could, apparently, multitask. He makes a mental note of that. He also makes a mental note to find out later where exactly Jon had heard this bit of information from.

"Okay," he breathes, nodding. "Yes, he travels with Corin and their _ad'ika_."

"Small child," Raga automatically translates when Jon cocks his head at the unfamiliar term.

The mechanic lets out a ‘ah’ at that and goes right back to tinkering with the device in his hands. It always stuns Paz just how easy Jon accepts new information. The man had been brutalized by a gang of Imps not two weeks ago, and yet he seems completely at ease with the idea that an ex-stormtrooper was welcomed within their tribe.

He shares a look with Raga before turning back to his _cyare_ … kriff, even his mind had even started to refer to the small male as his beloved. Yeah, they really needed to have that talk.

“Jon?”

The man hums at the sound of his name but doesn’t look up from where he’s carefully untangling some wires.

“Does it bother you that Corin was a stormtrooper?”

The mechanic pauses at the question, turning to raise a brow at Paz.

“Why would it?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that, and when the Mandalorian doesn’t respond Jon rolls his eyes.

“I ain’t scared of stormtroopers, Paz. Jus’ cause I had a bad run in with em do’t mean I’m gonna be jumpin’ every time I see this Corin guy. I mean, if y’all let em hang ‘round, he can’t be tha’ bad.”

The heavy gunner let the subject drop, but he took note of the uncomfortable look in his mechanic’s eyes.

*~~*~~*~~*

They were settling in for the night when Paz decides to breach the topic that had been playing in his mind all day. He’s pulling off his armor while the mechanic watches from the bed. He doesn’t miss the way the small man’s eyes trace over his physique. And kriff, if that wasn’t an ego boost...

“So, you aren’t afraid of Imps? Even after-”

Jon shots him an irradiated expression from the bed. “Nah.”

“So you aren’t afraid of anything then?”

The brunette snorts.

“Who told ya tha’?”

“It would be completely understandable if you were uncomfortable with having an ex-trooper in the covert, Jon. No one is judging you.”

“Naver said you were. And still, nah, I ain’t scared o’ Corin.”

“You haven’t met Corin.”

“Are ya sayin’ I _should_ be scared o’ em?”

Paz tilts his head back at the question. The image of any of his brethren in the tribe being afraid of Corin is laughable. The man wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it threatened their child.

“No.”

“Then why ta weird questions?”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay. With this, all of it-,” he hesitates here, but Jon doesn’t say anything. Just watches him, so the Mandalorian is forced to continue a minute later. “With me.”

Jon holds eye contact through the visor for a long moment, then slowly nods before looking away. The mechanic pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and chews as his eyes flicker about their room, never settling on an object for more than a few seconds.

“I-,” the brunette lets out a shaky breath. “I never had a family. Not a _real_ one a’least. Not like the _aliit_ I got now. I’m not ‘fraid of pain or things that go bump in the night. But the thought I could lose ya-”

Jon turns wide, petrified eyes up to Paz. “That _terrifies_ me.”

Paz is moving before the last few words tumble out of his mechanic's mouth. He reaches out to pull the other in close and is surprised when one of Jon's hands darts out to grab hold of the back of his neck. The man tugs lightly at his nape, stretching up to press his forehead to the beskar helm.

" _Ni cuy' juaan gar, ratiin_."

Paz isn't sure if Jon truly understands the whispered promise, but the way his mechanic's fingers curl tighter makes him think at least the man can hear the determination in the Mandalorian's voice. He carefully guides the man to lay on the bed, winding his arms around the lithe form and pulling him to his chest. Jon shifts impossibly closer, almost being blanketed by Paz' larger frame. His mechanic noses his way down to the line of flesh just under the helm and the warrior can feel the man's exhales ghosting over his pulse point.

As much as Paz desperately wants this to continue, maybe even progress into something more, he can feel the way Jon's breathing is evening out. He knows the man needs to rest for his injuries to heal properly so he shoves his arousal down and nuzzles into the wild nest of hair atop Jon's head. He's going to need to get it cut soon.

" _Nuhoy, ner kar'ta. Ni Kelir cuyir olar olaror vaa'tur._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a translations:
> 
> kov'nyn- head-butt, can be used for enemies or in this case to show affection to loved ones  
> vod- brother/sister  
> Alor- leader  
> cyar'ika- darling, sweetheart  
> Beroya- bounty hunter  
> Di'kut- idiot  
> Mando'ade- Mandalorian, sons/daughters of Mandalore  
> ad'ika- small child  
> cyare- beloved  
> Aliit- family  
> Ni cuy' juaan gar ratiin- I am beside you, always  
> Nuhoy, ner kar'ta. Ni Kelir cuyir olar olaror vaa'tur- Sleep, my heart. I will be here come morning.


	10. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz is bad at using his words. Jon is bored. Raga is done with this entire situation and the twins are just along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter is short.
> 
> Sorry about the delay with this, guys. I had another story pop into my head that I needed to get on paper before it drove me insane.
> 
> Shout out to Wizardmoonwhisper for betaing (is that a word?) yet again!

Jon has found a loophole, apparently.

Paz isn't sure if he should be pissed or impressed that the mechanic had been able to come up with a way to still work but keep his physical activity to an acceptable level.He and Raga were currently standing in the covert's new hangar watching all of this play out in front of them. Jon and the twins had disappeared shortly after the mechanic had finished his breakfast, and had been gone so long that both of the older Mandalorians had started to suspect something. Sure enough, they had found the three men hovering over an open panel of one of the tribe's ships an hour later. Paz had nearly had a meltdown until he realized that Jon wasn't actually doing any work. He was standing a few paces behind the twins and patiently explaining how to replace a fried circuit. Not only that, but the mechanic was using mostly Mando'a to instruct the brothers with the occasional pronunciation correction from the two warriors.

Raga took a step closer to the group, drawing Jon's attention away from the wiring.

"I ain't workin’," the mechanic immediately stated in defense, holding up his hands to show they were clean of grim.

"I can see that."

"Ah- Am I in trouble?"

"Hmm- Haven't decided yet."

"Kriff."

Paz tilted his head towards the twins. The brothers spared them a quick glance before going back to carefully installing the new circuit.

"He hasn't lifted a finger, Raga," Arsu confirmed.

"We wouldn't let him," Azizos stated matter-of-factly, closing the paneling a moment later. "But he did make a good point. The ships do still need maintenance."

"And this was the compromise?"

That got a nod from both twins.

"You're really that bored," the heavy gunner asks.

Jon frowned, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. "I ain't used to sittin' 'round all day. I- I gotta _do_ something, Paz. I do't know- I get itchy if I ca't move or work-"

“What about the black box I gave you to work on?”

“I- ah, yeah I was workin’ on tha’ but needed a tool from our ship an’ well-”

“He got distracted,” Arsu explained, waving a hand towards the ship between them and chuckled at the pout the mechanic threw his way.

Paz tilts his head, considering the mechanic before turning to Raga. "Well, technically, he's following Ghas' orders."

The woman hums in agreement, cocking a hip as she stares the three men down.

The grin that spreads across Jon's face is worth the underlying concern that flares up over the thought of the mechanic possibly taking the permission to start 'working' again too far. The smaller man moves towards the heavy gunner, pressing into his side like a happy loth cat. Paz wraps an arm around him, pulling his mechanic closer and reveling in the warm feeling blooming in his chest.

He would just have to trust the twins to keep an eye on the mechanic when he wasn’t around.

Though, he's pretty sure Raga won't be too far away either.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz didn't think it was possible for Jon to become more affectionate.

He was wrong.

Apparently, he was wrong about a lot of things lately.

Maybe it was because the mechanic didn't have an outlet for his energy, but the smaller man was paying a lot more attention to the heavy gunner. The man could often be found draped over one of his pauldrons, laying across his lap, or plastered to his side. As his ribs healed and his mobility improved, Jon started to increase the amount of… touching.

The covert had easily accepted the mechanic into their tribe by now and, according to Raga, many simply assumed they were a couple. And he had done nothing to dispel those rumors…

If anything he had encouraged them by allowing Jon so close, but at least Rork had backed off trying to chat up the smaller man.

And Paz was not complaining.

In fact, he was quite happy with this whole arrangement and his mechanic seemed just as pleased.

However, evenings for the two men were a bit different now.

Jon had always been completely unashamed when it came to snuggling into Paz' side at night, but now the man also didn't try to hide his lingering gaze. The mechanic opening ogled the heavy gunner when he went to pull off his armor for the night. Again, he wasn't complaining.

If Paz flexed a bit and preened at the obvious attraction in the man's eyes… well, that wasn't anyone's business.

Although, the Mandalorian did make sure to set some boundaries.

If only for his own sanity.

"No Jon," Paz carefully nudged the smaller man back onto the bed. The mechanic had attempted to straddle the heavy gunner's legs but had sucked in a pained breath when the position pulled at his still healing ribs. Which had caused the larger man to immediately put a stop to the advances. 

"We can't- You're still injured, _cyare_."

Jon's pout at the initial rejection quickly morphed into a thoughtful expression at those words.

"So- when I ain't injured anymore?"

The Mandalorian cleared his throat before leaning forward to press his helm to his mechanic's forehead. "After the medic clears you to start working again then- well, if you still want to-."

Paz trailed off when Jon looked up at him with an expression he'd never seen on the smaller man's face before. An expression that made all of the blood in his system rush down south.

 _Okay, no_. The heavy gunner took a deep breath. _Focus, Paz_.

He motioned for the mechanic to move over then slid under the blanket alongside Jon. Turning over he pulled Jon into his arms, where the smaller man immediately burrowed closer.

Paz always stayed awake for a while after Jon drifted off. The smaller man’s nightmares had tapered off with the help of their sleeping arrangement and it was no longer a surprise when the mechanic would sleep straight through the night. However, the Mandalorian would still lay awake beside the man, carefully running his ungloved fingers through the messy brown hair, just enjoying the feel of having someone in his arms.

Paz hadn’t considered the possibility that he might have been a little touch-starved until Jon had shoved his way into his life. The way the mechanic expressed himself through touch, freely given without any expectations of getting anything in return, had been a bit of a culture shock to the larger man.

Now, he couldn’t imagine a day without it.

Paz couldn’t imagine a minute without his _cyare_ by his side.

That should have been a terrifying thought to the warrior. The thought of _needing_ someone, not as an ally in battle but simply needing them close…

Maybe Raga had been right when she said that he had been spending too much time around the other man because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz woke to a quiet pinging noise emitting from the com link installed in his helmet. Cracking open his eyes he glanced at the HUD display before reaching a hand up to silence the sound before it could wake his mechanic.

Speaking of which, both men had moved at some point during the night and their new position was… not helping Paz’ ability to function this early.Jon was curled half on top of his chest, head tucked into the junction between his shoulder and neck. Their legs were hopelessly tangled together so any movement on the Mandalorian’s part would no doubt rouse the smaller man. Paz was warm and comfortable, and really didn’t want to move but a second ping from his HUD signaled another incoming message.

With a sigh, he reached up again to quiet the alert before bringing up the messages. The first was simply a message from Raga, asking if he was awake. Paz rolled his eyes at that.

The next message though, had the larger man’s attention the moment he pulled it up. It was a transmission the female Mandalorian had forwarded from the original source, the source being the _RazorCrest_.

_Entering system. Estimated arrival time - 3 standard hours._

Well, it looks like the wayward members of their tribe had finally decided to come home.

Which means they probably needed to get up.

With a huff, the Mandalorian let his hand drop down to rest between the mechanic’s shoulder blades and gently stroked down the spine. The man sleepily mumbled something into the side of the heavy gunner’s neck, sending a shiver through his larger body. Kriff…

“Jon,” he called quietly, turning his helm to bump the man’s head a bit. He was rewarded for his efforts with a groan, one of the man’s hands coming up to comb through his mussed hair.

“Wha’?”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from him at the barely coherent response.

“Come on, _cyare_. It’s time to get up.”

Jon rolled off the larger man in a less than graceful move and, now free of the tangle of limbs, the Mandalorian sat up. “Did you sleep well?”

“Ya know I did, _ner kar’ta._ Always do when I got ya here with me,” the mechanic shot right back, grinning up at the Mandalorian as Paz moved to stand. Hearing Jon speak in Mando’a always sent a ripple of pride and... something else through him. Something that Paz was trying desperately to ignore, if only so he didn’t jump the smaller man right now, still healing ribs be damned.

“Ah- did I pronounce tha’ right-”

Jon’s question was cut off as Paz leaned down to draw the man into his arms and pressed his helm to the side of the mechanic’s head.

“ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”_

The words slipped past his lips before he was able to reign in his tongue. Both men froze, Jon’s breath catching in his throat before he slowly pulled back. Paz let him, thinking he had crossed a line but the mechanic didn’t completely try to move out of his grasp. The man leaned back just enough so he could look up into his visor.

“I- ah- I’m not far ‘nough inta my lessons so wha’- wha’ did ya jus’ say?”

Paz nearly sighs in relief at those halted words. Thanking whatever deity was looking down on him that Raga hadn’t seen fit to teach the mechanic the word for ‘love’ yet.

He really needed to stop putting off that talk...

“It’s- just a saying,” the Mandalorian lied, slowly pulling himself up and turning towards the refresher.

He didn’t miss the way the smaller man’s eyes narrowed at his response, clearly suspicious, but he slipped into the ‘fresher before the man could ask him to explain.

He wasn’t running away.

This was just… a tactical retreat.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz is an idiot.

“You’re an idiot,” Raga hisses as soon as she’s stepped close enough.

The heavy gunner sighs.

“Why didn’t you just tell him,” the woman demands, smacking one of his pauldrons, causing him to flinch back.

Once dressed, the two men had made their way to the hangar. Normally, Paz would have steered Jon towards the galley to retrieve some breakfast, but they were already cutting it close on time. The _RazorCrest_ should be getting close to the covert and the Mandalorian wanted to be there when it landed.

During the short trip, Jon had been unnaturally quiet. So much so, in fact, that they had pulled the attention of several others walking the corridors of their base. Paz had even seen Ghas do a double take when he’d spotted the mechanic silently trekking past the med bay.

“Do you want me to kick your ass in front of your boyfriend, Vizla?”

“-No.”

“Then talk.”

He sighed and ran a gloved hand over his helmet. “I-”

“You?”

“I panicked.”

Raga barked out a laugh. Jon and the twins glanced up at the sound from where the three men were standing a few meters away. Jon had immediately pulled the brothers aside when they had entered the hangar and the three had been engrossed in a quiet conversation until the female Mandalorian arrived. It only took the woman a few seconds to get the story out of Jon and had, then, turned her wrath on the larger man.

“I panicked,” Raga mimics back, lowering her voice in a surprisingly good impression of the heavy gunner. “I have no idea how you’ve managed to live as long as you have, Paz, because you are a kriffing _di’kut_.”

He could only grunt in agreement to that.

“Men,” Raga groaned, tossing her hands up exasperation. “You can tear your way through scores of stormtroopers without breaking a sweat, and Jon can fix a ship blindfolded but when it comes to using your kriffing words you, somehow, forget how conversations work.”

“You’re right.”

“I should have broken the lock on your door days ago and forced you two to talk like adults, but the twins convinced me to give you a few more cycles.”

“-Help me?”

The woman tilts her head at him, considering the request.

“Okay.”

“Wait, really?”

She hummed then turned her back on him. _Wait a minute…_

“Jon,” the woman called out. The mechanic’s head swiveled around to blink up at the female Mandalorian. _Wait just a kriffing minute…_

“ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_ means ‘I love you’,” Raga happily explained, watching the smaller man’s eyes widen before turning back to the heavy gunner.

“ _Gar’re olarom, vod.”_

_Fuck._

Jon turned those wide eyes on him and the Mandalorian felt like his heart was suddenly trying to claw its way up his throat. Just as he draws in a breath, intending to say something to his mechanic, the alarm that signals the arrival of an incoming ship rings out around them.

Sure enough, the _RazorCrest_ enters the hangar a moment later. Setting down in a shower of sparks and leaking fluids, drawing the immediate attention of a concerned Jon. Paz can’t blame him, the poor ship looks like it was barely holding together.

So focused on the RazorCrest’s appearance, the heavy gunner startles when his mechanic suddenly presses up against his side. Kriff, he’d forgotten how quiet the smaller man could move when he wanted to.

“Yer a shit liar, Paz,” Jon grumbled, watching as the ship’s engines powered down. “I know ‘nough ‘bout Mando’a now to know tha’ wasn’t a sayin’. Only piece o’ the puzzle I was missin’ was one word.”

“I- I know. I’m sorry.”

The mechanic hummed, frowning when the ramp of the _RazorCrest_ made a particularly loud screech as it lowered. “Fer the record, _ni kar’tayl gar darasuum_ too, ya big _di’kut_.”

Paz’ breath caught in his throat at those words, a sound emitting from him like a dying animal. Jon spares him a look, grinning up at the Mandalorian before reaching out to take one of the heavy gunner’s gloved hands into his own. The mechanic carefully laces their fingers together before giving his arm a little tug.

“Come on, _cyare_. How ‘bout ya introduce me ta the owner of this ship ‘fore I go insane and jus’ start rippin’ the damn thing apart?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyare- beloved  
> ner kar’ta- my heart  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum- I love you  
> Di’kut- idiot  
> Gar’re olarom, vod- you’re welcome, brother/sister


	11. Introductions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clan of three finally arrive at the covert. Jon is his usual oblivious self. Paz is his usual overprotective self. Din is confused. Corin is done with this entire day and just wants a nap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my beta reader, Wizardmoonwhisper!
> 
> I'd also like to apologize for the lack of response on my part with the comments you guys leave me. It's been a little wild lately with everything happening but I really appreciate every message you all send. I read every single one of them and each comment sustains me! ❤

Paz keeps a close eye on Jon as they move towards the _RazorCrest_.

As they draw near the ship and start to see the full extent of marring, Jon's fingers twitch from where they're still laced together with the heavy gunner's own. The mechanic winces when the ramp finally sets down and the durasteel groans ominously. The Mandalorian finds himself wondering what the hell had happened to cause this level of damage. If the ship was this heavily impaired, then what state would the small clan be in?

A horrible shriek fills the air when the outer door of the craft finally slides open to reveal the clan of three.

Din doesn't look too worse for wear, but his armor could be hiding any injuries. Corin is sporting a dark bruise on his jaw and a slight limp. The child appears completely unharmed, waving excitedly from where he's stowed in a sling across the ex-trooper's chest.

"What the hell happened to you two," Raga demands, watching the men descend the ramp.

Din sighs. "We had a run-in with some mercenaries."

"I thought your guild friend canceled the bounty on the kid's head."

"Greef did. These weren't hunters. Gideon has been throwing his credits around to whoever is looking for a quick buck. Five mercs, apparently, joined forces to try their hand at taking the _Crest_ down."

"So tha's why yer ship looks like ya tried to fly it through an asteroid belt blindfolded?"

Din's helmet swings around to face the mechanic, hand instantly reaching for the blaster holstered on his belt. Before the bounty hunter is able to pull the weapon on Jon though, Paz lets out a warning growl. The heavy gunner tugs on his mechanic's hand, pulling the oblivious man behind him and steps forward to tower over the shorter Mandalorian.

"Easy, troublemaker," he snarls.

The hunter pauses, cocking his helm at Paz curiously.

"Paz, be nice," Jon huffs behind him, the Mandalorian can hear the eye roll in his voice. "Guy do't look like he's had a great day so dial it back a little, big guy."

"-I am nice."

"I meant ta other people except me."

"-I'm nice to Raga."

"Cause Raga would probably shoot ya."

"That does sound like something I would do," the female warrior confirms. The woman sounds like she's enjoying herself far too much.

Raga steps forward, placing her hand on one of the heavy gunner's pauldrons to nudge him out of the way. When he moves aside, she waves Jon forward.

"Din? Corin? This is Jon, he's Paz' mechanic. He's also repaired nearly every one of the covert's ships and I'm pretty sure he's going a little crazy looking at the wreck of a vessel you've landed in."

"Hey, there," Jon hums, eyes roaming over the _RazorCrest_ with a near manic expression. "Little bit, yeah."

Raga nods, turning her attention back to the three new arrivals. "Alright, you two. Med bay, now."

Din seemed like he was going to protest, but a quick glance at Corin had him relenting. The bounty hunter turns back to the mechanic, looking the smaller man up and down. Jon is too absorbed in appraising the state of the _RazorCrest_ to really take notice, but Paz tenses on his behalf.

"You think you can fix the _Crest_?"

Jon snorts, eyes flickering over to the other Mandalorian before going back to scanning the damaged vessel. "I ca' fix an'thing. This jus' might take a bit. 'Specially since I got this overprotective _di'kut_ hoverin' over me."

The mechanic leans into the heavy gunner's side, grinning up at the larger man. Din startles when he hears the Mando'a slipping from the smaller man, helm whipping up to stare at Paz. He meets the hunter's visor with his own, daring the shorter Mandalorian to say anything.

Jon moves past the two men, intent on giving the ship a closer inspection, but a happy chirp from the kid draws his attention to Corin. The mechanic swivels around at the sound, tilting his head at the small, green child. Assured he has the man's attention, the kid makes another happy chirp before raising both arms to make grabby hands at the brunette. Corin blinks over at Din, clearly confused and a little uncomfortable when Jon moves closer. The bounty hunter moves to intercept Jon, but Raga stops him with a chuckle.

"Calm down, _beyora_. Foundlings love Jon for some reason," the woman shrugs, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Your _ad'ika_ is probably just curious."

The kid wiggles in the sling, trying to free itself to get to the mechanic. Jon reaches out then pauses, either remembering himself or noting how the ex-trooper stiffens at the motion. That was a rare occurrence, the mechanic normally pressed into anyone's personal space without regards to his safety or the other person's comfort. It was something that had taken the covert time to get used to, but most now simply accepted it without complaint. Though, Paz was usually the one receiving the brunt of the mechanic's affectionate invasions.

"Can I-," the smaller man asks, smiling up at Corin and holding out his hands towards the little one. "Ya look like ya might need a break."

And, honestly, the ex-trooper really does look like he needs the rest. There are bags under his eyes and he's leaning most of his weight on his good leg. Corin glances at Din and, once he gets a nod from the other man, pulls the child out of the sling. The kid makes a happy little coo when he's passed over to the mechanic.

"Well now, ain't ya the cutest dang thing I've ever seen," the brunette laughs as he pulls the kid close to his chest, the little one snuggling into his arms.

Paz can't help the dopey smile spreading across his face, thankful, not for the first time, that his helmet hides the expression. Seeing Jon with an armful of foundling was too adorable for his brain to deal with at the moment.

"Alright," Raga bumps Din's shoulder with one of her own. "Enough stalling. You both have a date with Ghas."

The heavy gunner is just turning to help the female Mandalorian usher the two men towards the med bay when he hears a grunt of pain from Jon. Paz whirls around, Raga and Din turning just as quickly.

The little one had slipped down just enough in Jon's grasp to allow one of its clawed hands to press into the brunette's ribs.

"Jon," Paz calls out, concerned.

The mechanic's face is pinched in discomfort, but his hands are gentle when they try to move the foundling away from his stomach. Suddenly, Jon freezes, a confused noise escaping his throat as his brows pull together. After a minute, the child pulls his hand away and squirms in the man's grip, clearly demanding to be set down. The smaller man immediately crouches to set the little one free and the heavy gunner moves to help his mechanic stand, knowing the motion would be difficult with busted ribs. Jon holds out a hand to stop him though, still looking very unsettled when he easily straightens from his kneeling position.

" _Cyare_?"

Paz ignores the way Din's helm snaps to look at him when he calls out to the man. Jon blinks, tilts his head to the side and reaches down to poke a few fingers into his side.

"Huh," the brunette grunts, hand roving over his ribs. He turns to raise a brow at the larger man. "Um, it do't hurt an'more. Is- is tha' normal?"

Corin groans and his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Normal enough," Din huffs, turning to look at Corin. "Technically, you told him not to heal _you_. You never said anything about other people."

"Shut it, Din," the man snarls half-heartedly at the bounty hunter.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz has to sling Jon over his shoulder to get the mechanic back to the med bay. As soon as the smaller man had realized that his pain was gone, and his range of motion was back to normal, he had tried to get started on the _Crest_ . The man had protested and struggled, but the heavy gunner doesn't relinquish his hold so, eventually, Jon gives up. Well, he gives up _struggling_. The man continues to protest and ramble from his place over one of Paz' pauldrons.

Din has his hands full of an equally irritable Corin, so at least he doesn't have to answer any unwanted questions. Yet.

Ghas meets them at the door to the medical room, having heard their approach from a ways off. The medic startles upon seeing the mechanic and immediately demands the heavy gunner place Jon on a gurney then waves him off to start a scan.

"Huh," the medic seems perplexed enough to fire up the device again, Jon rolls his eyes from his prone position on the gurney and shifts restlessly. "Keep still or I'll sedate you, Jon."

The mechanic pauses, narrowing his eyes up at the medic. "Ya wouldn't do tha'."

"Try me."

Jon huffs, but doesn't move an inch until the scanner finishes up.

"Well- that's unexpected," Ghas hums, glancing over the readings. "Looks like you're good as new, _burc'ya_. Try not to overdo it, though."

The smaller man happily scrambles up off the table and darts towards the door and freedom. Paz doesn't miss the wink the smaller man throws over his shoulder before disappearing out of the room with a laugh. Neither does Din apparently, he can see the hunter watching him from the corner of his visor.

The twins fall in line behind the brunette, both nodding at Paz before following the mechanic back to the hangar.

"Out with it, _beroya_ ," he grumbles, leaning against the wall to watch Ghas start his scan on Corin.

"I didn’t say anything."

"No, but you were thinking it."

"Didn't your _cyare_ tell you to be nice?"

"Din," Corin groans in frustration from his place on the gurney. The bounty hunter turns to look at the ex-trooper, who pins him with a warning look.

Paz doesn't remember Corin being this assertive, but he wasn't going to argue with it. Especially, as he watches the other Mandalorian hang his head a bit at the reprimand.

"You want to tell me what happened," Ghas asks as he carefully removes one of the man's boots to inspect the injured limb.

"I was just finishing up feeding the kid his lunch when those mercenaries attacked. I guess, I was more focused on getting the little guy strapped into his seat-"

"He got tossed around a bit while I was trying to keep us from exploding," Din finishes for him.

The medic hums and steps back after accessing the ex-trooper.

"What about you," Ghas asks Din as he starts to pull out a few bacta patches.

"I was already strapped in. I was just finishing putting in the covert's new nav point when the first merc ship fell out of hyperdrive."

"Well, it isn't too bad. Looks like the worst you've got is a mild sprain," the medic states as he begins to wrap the ex-stormtrooper's foot. "Try to keep your weight off it for a few days. I'll give you a few painkillers that should help you sleep."

As Ghas continues to talk, instructing Corin how to place the bacta patch and wrap the foot properly, Paz senses Din's gaze shift back to him.

"So, you and Jon?"

Raga snorts in the background.

"Yes, me and Jon. You got an issue with _my_ mechanic, troublemaker?"

"No. He seems- nice?"

"If by nice, you mean completely oblivious and possessing no basic survival instincts, then yes. Jon is very nice," Raga scoffs, moving closer to the bounty hunter. "Come on. I'll show you where an empty room is and you-," the female turns to nod at Paz. "-can go back to hovering over your _cyare_."

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz leaves the clan in the capable hands of Raga and heads back to the hangar. It's easy enough to find his mechanic. He's carefully looking over the ramp and outer door of the _Crest_ , the twins working around an opened panel near him. He watches the smaller man work from a distance for a few minutes. It always amazed the larger man how Jon could rip apart a device or ship with relative ease. Though the man was thin, he was clearly sporting a decent amount of muscle tissue under his lithe frame from years of manual labor.

His mind drifts to the conversation they had had last night. Jon was obviously interested in taking their relationship further and Paz was not opposed to that plan.

_After the medic clears you to start working again then- well, if you still want to-_

Paz feels heat pool in his stomach as he remembers those words. Ghas _had_ given Jon a clean bill of health, hadn't he?

The heavy gunner clears his throat and his mechanic looks up at the sound. Jon's face lights up when he spots the larger man, leaving Paz momentarily stunned. The brunette abandons his work to move to his side, snuggling close with a happy noise.

"So-," Jon begins, looking up at Paz with wide eyes.

"So?"

"Ghas, tech'cally, cleared me."

"Yes, yes he did," the larger man hums, he gazes up at the _RazorCrest_ before turning his attention back to the brunette. "I figured you'd be elbow deep in the _Crest's_ wiring by now."

"Normally, ya'd be right but-"

"But?"

"I was waitin' fer ya to get back."

Something about the other man's tone has Paz straightening. A feral grin spreads across his face, unnoticed behind his helm. He pulls Jon's a little closer, running a large hand down the man's side. The mechanic makes a breathless noise at the contact and that breaks the heavy gunner's resolve.

"The _Crest_ isn't going anywhere-"

"Nah, it ain't."

"Could I pull you any from your work for a bit, then?"

Jon smirks up at him, eyes bright and playful. He slips away from the Mandalorian and starts walking out of the hangar toward their shared room, throwing a look over his shoulder. Paz immediately moves to follow his mechanic, ignoring the catcalls from the twins in the background.

He has more important things to focus on at the moment.

Paz stalks after his mechanic, eyes roving over the lean body in front of him. Occasionally, Jon glances back at him with a heated look that has the Mandalorian growl low in his throat.

The walk to their room is blessedly short, and as soon as the door swings closed behind the heavy gunner, he has the smaller male pressed against the wall. Jon grunts, but doesn’t complain about the rough treatment.

Paz presses his helm into the hollow between his mechanic’s shoulder and neck, large hands reaching down to hike the man further up the wall. The brunette gasps when his feet completely leave the ground, the noise going straight to the Mandalorian’s ego.

“Want you, _ner kar’ta_.”

When Jon laughs it sounds a little breathless. “Well, ya got me, _cyare_.”

*~~*~~*~~*

They should really get cleaned up and head back to the hangar, but Paz can't bring himself to disturb the sleeping man on his chest.

He runs a careful hand up the back of his mechanic and Jon sighs happily into his neck, shifting atop the Mandalorian in his sleep.

They're both completely bare, naked as the day they were born except for his helmet, and tangled together under the thin sheet of the bed. Paz had been tempted to blindfold the smaller man so he could remove the beskar helm, but neither of the men had the patience to look for a scrap of cloth earlier.

A ping from his HUD alerts him to a message, probably from Raga if he has to guess. Jon grumbles at the noise but doesn't wake. Instead, the brunette buries his face under the chin of the Mandalorian's helm. Paz holds absolutely still until the man settles then slowly brings a hand up to open the transmission. Sure enough, it's from Raga. Apparently, Din was wondering where the covert's mechanic was and why he wasn't working on _RazorCrest_. The larger man nearly growls at that, Jon wasn't the covert's mechanic. He was Paz' _cyare_. He makes a mental note to correct the bounty hunter later.

He checks the time after sending a response back to the woman, a simple 'we're busy' with no further clarification. Raga was smart enough to read between the lines.

They had only been gone for a few standard hours, and Paz wasn't in any hurry to disrupt the peaceful quiet of their little haven. He was warm, satiated, and the most relaxed he could remember being in recent memory. The only downside was the… mess drying on their skin, but a quick trip to the refresher later would take care of that easily enough.

Settling back into the firm mattress of their bed, Paz closes his eyes and allows himself to drift off. 

Jon had the right idea.

A nap sounded like a fantastic idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beyora- bounty hunter  
> adi'ka- little one/small child  
> cyare- beloved  
> ner kar'ta- my heart  
> burc'ya- friend


	12. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz gets want he wants. Raga is amused. The twins have a scare. Corin and Din are confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Wizardmoonwhisper for betaing! (I still hate commas tho...)
> 
> Shout out to Militia for making this awesome fan art of Jon! I love it!!!

Jon is warm and comfortable.

It should really be more awkward to wake up sprawled naked over top an equally bare body, but the mechanic can’t remember a time where he’s been more… at peace.

In fact, he struggles to remember a time in his life where he’s felt this accepted and wanted. It was clear that Raga and the twins had a soft spot for him, and Jon would be lying if he said he didn’t care greatly for them as well. Paz, of course, was… Paz. A solid wall of muscle surrounding a caring, soft heart that the mechanic would give his own life to defend.

When the heavy gunner first brought him to the covert, the man had been prepared to be treated as an outsider. Simply a tool to help fix and maintain their fleet. Though Mandalorians were rarely seen, he had heard enough stories to know socializing with those not of the Creed wasn’t commonplace. So, it had been a shock when the tribe not only tolerated him, but welcomed the smaller man with open, albeit tentative, arms.

Then, the covert’s Matriarch had all but demanded to meet him. The walk to the forge that day had been nerve-racking, Jon easily hiding his anxiety behind that ever-flowing fountain of words that sprung forth naturally from his lips. He had been ready for the woman to take one look at him, deem him unworthy of her tribe, and toss him out into Ortix’ scorching desert to fend for himself.

It’s not like he hadn’t experienced something like that before.

The… meeting? Conclave? Chat? Jon still struggles with putting an exact name to the whole encounter. Whatever it was, the end result had been surprising. The gold helmeted woman had simply listened to the man ramble as she worked, probably making a fool of himself, before giving a single nod, and stating that Jon could stay.

“Wha-,” Jon had numbly asked, staring wide-eyed up at the Matriarch.

“The _Alor’ad_ trusts you and it seems you’ve found your place here,” the woman had hummed in reply, hands deftly craving something into a newly crafted piece of beskar armor. “This is the way.”

And that was, apparently, that.

Jon hadn’t dared to argue. Fearing the woman might change her mind.

“You’re thinking too loudly, _cyare_.”

The smaller man nearly melts at hearing the gruff, sleep addled voice in his ear. When a large hand comes up to comb through his hair, the brunette presses his head further under the Mandalorian’s chin, reveling in the way the cool metal of the helm digs into his scalp.

This close, Jon could feel the chuckle Paz let’s slip rumble through the man’s board chest.

He presses a smile into _his_ Mandalorian’s neck, sighing happily.

Jon is just starting to lightly doze off again, lulled by the gentle touch to his hair, when the hand stops and tugs carefully at a lock.

The mechanic gives a sleepy grunt of acknowledgement to show he was listening, but otherwise doesn’t move. He is in no hurry to leave his new favorite napping spot.

“Jon?” Another light tug at his hair, then the hand slips down to rub at the back of his neck.

He grunts again, a little louder this time. His brain finally waking just enough for it to process Paz’ tone of voice. He sounded almost… worried? He blinks open one eye to look around their shared room, brows furrowing when he didn’t immediately spot anything that could be the cause of the larger man’s concern.

“Wha’s wrong?”

“I- you’re okay, right?”

The mechanic pauses, turning the question over in his head before replying. “Wha’?”

Well, okay. Maybe his brain wasn’t quite as awake as he had thought.

“You aren’t- hurt?”

Huh? Oh… _OH_.

Jon snorts, snuggling closer to the warm body under him. “Nah, ‘m good-”

“But-”

The smaller man lifts his head sharply. The movement enough to jostle the helmet, and the cranium contained within, above him, effectively cutting off the Mandalorian’s protest.

“Said ‘m good. Real good, in fact. Quit worryin’.”

Paz finally drops the subject, perhaps a little wary of any retribution the mechanic may dish out. Jon did have the high ground here after all and, with his face still tucked under the beskar helm, the man could make the heavy gunner regret any further challenge.

They lay tangled together for a while. Jon drifting in a sleepy haze while Paz’ fingers move lower to explore his back.

It’s strange, the mechanic thinks. The very idea of someone touching the old scars on his back had always been unsettling. The skin there ruined after that terror and alcohol fueled night, the last time he’d ever seen his father, all those years ago. It was nearly numb in some spots and overly sensitive in others, his own clothing sometimes chafing the more delicate areas. The thought of allowing someone to see, much less touch, the long-healed flesh had been something he had shied away from for what feels like _ages_.

Paz’ touch, though, was grounding. No, that wasn’t quite right, was it?

It felt kriffing divine and if the Mandalorian wanted to get out of bed at any point today then he really needed to stop doing that...

*~~*~~*~~*

They finally manage to roll out of bed roughly half a standard hour later.

Paz promptly herds the half-asleep man into the refresher. He hesitates for a second before stepping into the shower along with the smaller male, not trusting the mechanic to keep himself from drowning in his lethargic state.

Once they're both clean, dressed and, in Paz’ case, armored, they head back to the hangar. The heavy gunner keeps a close eye on Jon as they make slow progress through the halls of the covert. He takes note of the very slight limp the mechanic is sporting, but the man throws him a warning look before he’s able to address it.

Predictively, Din rounds on them as soon as they near the _RazorCrest_ , but the bounty hunter pauses upon noticing the mechanic’s slouched posture.

“What happened to you?”

Instead of answering, Jon stares the Mandalorian down. When the bounty hunter turns to look at Paz, the heavy gunner crosses his arms over his armored chest, refusing to comment.

“Yer ship ain’t going an’where fer a while, _beyora_. Ya might as well settle down.”

Din’s helmet snaps over, the heavy gunner watches the man’s stance change into something more threatening. Which would have probably frightened anyone else, but Jon doesn’t even take notice. Instead, the smaller man moves past the stunned bounty hunter without a second glance to start up the ramp leading to the interior of the _Crest_.

Raga saddles up to the two men a moment later, radiating barely contained amusement.

“Have fun,” she asks. He can hear the grin in her voice, can just imagine a wink coupled with it.

“What are you-,” the bounty hunter starts to ask, but something stops him.

Paz can _see_ the exact moment the pieces fall into place for the man, then Din coughs and abruptly turns away.

Normally, he would take this opportunity to tease the man ruthlessly, but he was in too good of a mood to conjure up a snide remark, so he leaves it alone… For now.

"Where's Corin," Paz decides to ask instead.

"Sleeping," Raga answers for the other man. "He needed it and with the little one playing with the rest of the foundlings, it seemed like the perfect time."

He nods at the answer before turning his attention back to Din. "And I'm guessing you got banished to the hangar?"

Raga snorts and the shorter Mandalorian turns away, clearly pouting.

*~~*~~*~~*

The next few hours pass relatively quietly. At one point, Paz leaves Jon in the capable hands of Raga and twins to find his mechanic some lunch.

Upon returning, the larger man has to physically pick Jon up and carry him out of the ship to get him to, finally, eat something.

Din watches all of this from the side, helm tilted slightly in confusion.

Corin makes an appearance sometime later. Jon had managed to climb his way up the side of the _RazorCrest_ and has half of his body lodged in an open panel while he was searching for the source of a particularly stubborn coolant leak. If it weren't for the twins standing anxiously under his mechanic, Paz would have moved closer. He trusted the two men though, to catch the smaller male, should Jon lose his footing.

"How was the nap," Paz asks the ex-trooper, eyes never leaving the lithe form of his _cyare_.

Corin hums sleepily, eyes following his line of sight to the vessel. The man straightens when he spots Jon a moment later.

"Is that safe?"

"Probably not."

A string of cursing, mostly in Mando'a, cuts off Corin's response.

Jon pulls his head back out of the paneling just quick enough to miss getting a face full of coolant. Unfortunately, the momentum also causes the mechanic to lose his grip. Paz' heart drops into his stomach as he watches the man fall… Right into the outstretched arms of the two brothers.

The heavy gunner stalks forward as the twins help the smaller man to his feet, neither letting go of their hold on his arms until Paz crowds his bulk into the mechanic's space. The brothers step back then, letting the larger Mandalorian take over.

" _Ner kar'ta_?"

Jon blinks wide, green eyes up at him before glancing back up at the ship and releasing a wobbly breath.

" _Cuyir gar pirusti_?"

"Yeah, I-I'm alright, big guy. Jus' a little surprised, is all."

Not entirely convinced, and still in need of reassurance that the man was, in one piece Paz pulls him close, pressing his helm into the unruly brown hair. His mechanic leans into the touch with a happy noise.

After a few minutes of simply holding the man the heavy gunner reluctantly steps back to allow Raga to inspect the smaller male.

The woman checks him over all the while muttering under her breath in a mix between Mando'a and Basic, the lower grumbled phrases mostly centering around 'careless little _vod'e_ '.

The larger Mandalorian spots Din and Corin standing nearby, watching the whole scene curiously.

"Enough work for today, _vod_."

Raga's voice leaves no room for argument, and surprisingly Jon doesn't even try. Or, maybe, the man had finally come to the conclusion that there was really no point in arguing with the female Mandalorian. She normally got what she wanted.

"I made a decent dent in repairs so I s'ppose a break is in order."

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz, apparently, hadn't needed to worry about Jon's reaction to Corin's presence. He comes to this realization after they settle down in one of the communal rooms after the mechanic's near accident in the hangar. The child is playing with a group of toddlers nearby, the play date under the watchful eye of another _buir_.

In fact, the two men seem to hit it off extremely well once the ex-trooper gets a little more comfortable with Jon's… personality.

The trooper had balked when Jon had pulled out the still wrecked black box though recognizing it for what it was, Imperial tech, and that had Din tensing. The mechanic had raised one unimpressed brow at their reactions before he started carefully working on the mess of twisted metal.

"Where did you get that," the bounty hunter snarls, hand twitching towards the blaster at his hip. Paz shifts a little closer to his _cyare_ and he sees the twins bristle out of the corner of his eye.

Again, Jon blinks blankly up at the other Mandalorian, looking entirely indifferent to the clear threat presented to him. The heavy gunner was really starting to wonder about his mechanic's mental health. No one could be this oblivious, right?

"Tha _Alor_ gave it to _ner cyar'ika_ ta give to me."

Paz did not preen at the nickname thrown in his direction… He did _not_.

The bounty hunter pauses. "You've been learning a lot of Mando'a."

"Raga's a good teacher."

"Raga? Raga has been _teaching_ you our language?"

Jon hums, eyes moving back down to the broken device in his hands.

"I asked fer her help ta learn it. It's Paz' language. It's important ta him-," the mechanic looks up at Din before continuing, expression suddenly challenging. "-So, it's important ta me."

Heat pools in his gut at those words and he's not sure what noise he makes that causes Jon to sharply look his way, but the next minute he has the mechanic tossed over one pauldron. The man hisses at the rough treatment, gripping white-knuckled at his armor and making a puzzled sound in the back of his throat. Without a word, Paz turns on his heels and stalks off in the direction of their room, ignoring the string of complaints issuing from the man draped over his shoulder and the full belly laugh he can hear coming from Raga.

*~~*~~*~~*

He wants to show Jon his face.

The thought strikes him as he lay beside his sleeping mechanic, tracing a careful path down the man's spine with one of his hands. The exhausted man had passed out twenty minutes ago while Paz had been in the middle of looking him over for injuries. The brunette had rolled his eyes, but ultimately allowed the Mandalorian to continue his inspection without further interruption. 

They're both bare except for his beskar helm, and the piece of armor had never felt like a curse until now. His hand stills over one of the more tender areas on Jon's back as he tries to process the churning emotions.

While he knows that he'd do anything for the smaller man, he also knows that the mechanic wouldn't want him to do something that could hurt his standing within the covert.

Jon had come to view the tribe as his home just as much as Paz had, and the heavy gunner would never do anything to jeopardize that.

No, he had to be smart here.

Kriff, planning had never been one of his strengths.

Taking a spouse that wasn't of the Creed wasn't unheard of, just a rarity. He knows his _Alor_ would approve of his choice, the simple fact that she allowed the man to live among them was evidence enough of her feelings toward their relationship.

The problem was Paz had never courted anyone before, be they of the Creed or not. He'd had flings in the past, sure. One-night stands that had only been to relieve stress and hadn't meant anything to him.

But Jon wasn't a fling, and he sure as hell wasn't a one-night stand either.

There was also the question of whether or not Jon would accept his proposal.

As though sensing his inner turmoil the brunette mumbles something that sounds vaguely like Mando’a into his pillow, brows pinching together. Recognizing the beginnings of a possible nightmare, Paz shifts his weight so he’s pressed solidly against the smaller body. His hand goes back to caressing the skin laid out before him, tucking his other arm under his helm, so he’s able to watch over the sleeping form next to him.

“ _Nuhoy, cyar’ika. Ni’m olar. Gar’re morut’yc._ ”

Jon’s face relaxes at those whispered words, mumbles something incoherently in return before slipping completely back under into a restful sleep.

Paz had never been good at planning, but he knew someone who was.

He’d speak to his _Alor_ in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alor’ad- captain  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Beyora- bounty hunter  
> Ner kar'ta- my heart  
> Cuyir gar pirusti- are you well?  
> Vod'e- brothers/sisters (plural)  
> Vod- brother/sister (singular)  
> buir- parent  
> Alor- leader  
> Cyar'ika- darling/sweetheart  
> Nuhoy, cyar’ika. Ni’m olar. Gar’re morut’yc- Sleep, darling. You’re safe. I’m here.


	13. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz gets derailed. Jon and Corin go on an adventure. Jon does not have a good time. Corin has concerns. Raga, also, has concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank my beta reader, Wizardmoonwhisper, who called Jon and the Mandalorians a chaotic dysfunctional family. So thanks for that mental image! :D

Paz doesn't actually get a chance to speak to the Armorer right away.

Raga stops by their room in the morning to snatch up his mechanic, stating she needs to borrow the smaller man.

"You mentioned he's good at haggling and the covert needs a few supplies," the female Mandalorian tells him as they wait for the mechanic to emerge from the 'fresher.

"You can't get the supplies yourself?"

He trusts his  _ vod _ , he really does. Normally, he wouldn't take issue with allowing her to watch over the man without him present, but that was while the man was in the protective walls of the covert. This would be outside, in the open, away from the watchful eyes of his tribe. It didn't help that this was a new world, one where he didn't personally know the different vendors. The lack of information left his trigger finger feeling itchy.

"We want to stay on this world for a while, so it wouldn't be in our best interest to scare the merchants," Raga replies with a hint of impatience coloring her tone.

He concedes her point there. It had taken years to establish a good rapport with the various vendors on Nevarro. His people's beskar armor was good at providing protection during combat, but wasn't exactly something that put most people at ease with their presence.

"Corin volunteered to help as well."

That does help to settle something in the heavy gunner’s gut. Unlike his mechanic, Corin was a trained soldier and seemed to like the mechanic well enough, so he'd have Jon's back if it came down to a firefight.

Reluctantly, Paz nods.

Corin and Din are already waiting in the hallway when they step out a short while later.

The large Mandalorian grabs Jon's hand and pulls him into a  _ kov'nynir _ with a whispered command of ' _ k'oyacyi _ ' before the small male can wander over to greet the other men.

Jon snorts up at him. "Ya worry too much, big guy. Do't fret, I'll be good."

*~~*~~*~~*

Corin was actually a little shocked when he first met Jon. He hadn't known Paz all that long, but the man hadn't struck him as someone that had a lot of patience. So, when he, Din, and the child had arrived back at the covert's new location after that last run-in with those mercenaries, finding a small, thin, hyperactive man hanging off the massive Mandalorian had almost been comical.

The ex-trooper would have almost been convinced they had been in a long-term relationship simply from the way the two worked so smoothly around each other if it hadn't been for the visible confusion radiating off of his own Mandalorian. Seeing the normally stoic bounty hunter completely thrown for a loop had been priceless and firmly placed Jon in the top spot of Corin's favorite people within the tribe. Right up there with the female Mandalorian that had been kind enough to give him a quick haircut so many months ago.

Raga had warned him, though, that the man apparently had no concept of self-preservation when he had asked to come along on the supply run to the market. So, he took it upon himself to watch over the smaller man as they neared this world's shopping district. The ex-trooper could still feel the eyes of Raga and the handful of other Mandalorians she had roped into 'guard duty' watching their progress from a distance, but the warriors stayed expertly hidden from sight.

Corin mostly hung back and watched in stunned silence as the mechanic easily picked up a conversation with even the most standoffish of merchants. Words came effortlessly to the man, coupled with his happy disposition and he had most vendors wrapped around his little finger quickly.

The only exception to this was a grumpy Besalisk they encountered late into the day. Corin blinked up in confusion at seeing the large creature leaning against the counter in the middle of some kind of metal working shop. He'd never seen a Besalisk in person before and his haunches raised instantly when the mechanic had sauntered right up to the enormous being to strike up a dialog. The metal worker stubbornly refused any kind of deal though, and after about thirty minutes of attempted haggling, Jon threw up his hands in frustration and moved towards the exit.

"Tiny one won't find any other smiths. Erdi is only one," the Besalisk smugly threw out in broken Basic.

"Oh, yeah 'cause ya really got all these other customers in yer shop happily waitin' to buy from ya," the mechanic snarked right back, waving around the empty room with a dramatic sweep of his arms.

'Erdi' narrowed its eyes at the man, who stared defiantly right back with a raised brow. Corin's hand twitched towards the blaster at his hip, wide eyes flicking between the two.

"Erdi does not give 'discounts'," the large creature hissed out the last word like it was a curse, raising the upper half of its body from the counter in an effort to intimidate.

"Does Erdi wanna make a sale today or not?"

A silence fell over the shop at that until, with a huff, the Besaliak flopped back down into a relaxed position.

Grumbling under its breath, Erdi waved the mechanic forward with one of its four massive arms. "Tiny one acts big. Erdi- likes tiny one. You get discount. No one else!"

*~~*~~*~~*

Corin is a little in awe of this tiny man once they exit the metal shop. Also, a little concerned. He understands now why the pack of Mandalorians had become so protective over the mechanic.

The trooper stops to check over the data pad Raga had entrusted to him before leaving the underground passageways of the covert. He skims over the list of supplies, checking things off as he goes, while Jon hovers nearby, lazily glancing around the market as he waits.

"Okay, looks like that was the last of it. We can head b-," Corin's words trail off when he looks up.

Jon is staring off into the distance with wide, unblinking eyes. The man's complexion has turned a sickening white and it takes a moment for the ex-trooper to realize the mechanic is shaking.

"Hey," he calls gently, reaching a hand out towards the thin man. "Jon?"

As soon as his fingers brush against the mechanic's shoulder the man  _ flinches _ . Those wide green eyes turn to him, but there is something definitely off. The mechanic’s eyes aren’t focused on him, but rather, they are looking  _ through _ him. He isn’t seeing Corin.. Jon's form curls into itself, somehow appearing even smaller. Like he expects a blow.

_ Kriff _ .

Keeping his hands where Jon can see them, and slowing his movement so as not to startle him again, Corin racks his brain for a plan. It’s obvious the man is having some kind of panic attack and if they were approached by a stranger now… The ex-trooper shakes himself, trying to focus on the task at hand. He spots an alleyway nearby and carefully guides Jon towards the darkened street. The mechanic presses against one stone wall once they enter the quiet acove, trying to put as much room between them as possible. Corin keeps his eyes locked onto the still trembling body of the smaller man and pulls out a commlink.

"Raga," the ex-trooper quietly mumbles into the device, trying to keep his voice low and soothingly.

"What?"

Jon recoils sharply at the loud response, one shoulder digging painfully into the brickwork and his breathing picks up.

"I- something's wrong- with Jon. I don't-."

There's a heavy pause on the other end of the line then the sound of boots at the entrance to their hiding spot has Corin pulling his blaster and moving in front of the mechanic. Raga steps from the shadows and pushes past the trooper without even giving the weapon a second glance. Of course, he should have known that the woman wouldn't have been far…

"Jon?"

The man doesn't appear to hear her at first. He's still shaking, breathing far too quick and shallow, eyes steadily boring a hole into the ground at his feet. When she takes another step closer to reach out towards the mechanic, the man finally seems to notice her presence. Jon's eyes snap up and he shakes his head violently, pushing further away and retreating from the female Mandalorian’s hand.

Raga freezes, stunned by the refusal. " _ Vod _ ?"

Jon doesn't reply. In fact, the man is eerily silent.

"What happened," the female Mandalorian asks, helmet never turning away from the mechanic.

"I- I'm not sure. We just finished ordering all of the supplies then-."

"Then?"

"I looked up from the data pad and-," Corin motions to Jon huddled against the wall. "-And he was like this, just staring off into space."

Raga quietly observes the mechanic before calling out to him again, though she doesn't try to move closer. "Jon'ika- Tell me how I can help you.  _ Gedet'ye! _ "

Jon's breath hitches, but he works his jaw in an effort to respond. "He- I-"

The man makes a frustrated noise that dissolves into a sob, his breathing labored as he scrambles desperately to get his throat to form some kind of an answer. 

" _ Meg vaabir gar linibar _ ?"

The mechanic seems to calm just slightly at the sound of Mando'a, but he's still terribly pale and now there are tears slowly trickling down his face.

"P-Paz," Jon chokes out, body curling forward as another sob rips from his chest. "I wan' Paz."

*~ ~*~~*~~*

Paz decides to keep Din company while the man works on his ship. 

Before he’d made his way to the hanger, he had checked in on the Armorer and the others of his tribe. However, he found himself twitchy and unable to concentrate, thoughts straying back to his mechanic. So now he’s leaning against one of the  _ RazorCrest’s _ stabilizers, watching Din try to route the same leak that had evaded his mechanic yesterday.

“Instead of laughing at me you could help, you know?”

Paz hums, tilting his helm back like he’s considering the request.

“I  _ could, _ but then it wouldn’t be quite as funny.”

Because, honestly, watching the shorter Mandalorian attempt to climb up the side of the  _ Crest _ to get to the open paneling had been hilarious. Jon had the advantage of having a lithe form, years of experience, and no armor weighing him down. Whereas Din hadn’t even thought to remove some of his more cumbersome  _ beskar’gam. _

The bounty hunter lets out a bone deep sigh, directing, what Paz assumed, was a glare in his direction. While this had kept Paz occupied for a time, now that the entertainment was over, he couldn't help but to think of his  _ cyare _ again. A soft coo at his feet pulls his attention back to the kid. The little green guy had stuck close to his  _ buir _ while Corin was away, clearly not liking the fact that only one of his caretakers was currently in the covert. He had even refused to be left with the other foundlings, clinging to his father's armor with those tiny clawed hands.

"They've been gone for a while, huh little guy," the large Mandalorian asks as he crouches down. 

The little one coos at him, those large eyes blinking up at him curiously while huge green ears lower sadly. The poor thing does not look happy about being left behind.

"I'm sure they'll be back so-," Din is suddenly cut off when a sharp ping echoes out around them.

Paz watches the shorter Mandalorian pull out a commlink, activating it with a quick press of a button.

"Corin-?"

"Din!"

Paz straightens when he catches the man's tone of voice. The ex-trooper sounds out of breath, worried, then the heavy gunner hears it… It's faint, almost so quiet that he thinks it might have been his ears playing tricks on him, but then the noise filters in through the comm again. Someone was sobbing in the background. Hitched breathing, the occasional whimper, and Raga softly whispering Mando'a like she was trying to comfort a child.

_ Jon! _

He surges forward, hand clamping down on one of the bounty hunter's pauldrons, and the other gripping the wrist holding the commlink. The other Mandalorian startles, moves to pull away but stills when the heavy gunner lets out a snarl.

"Location. Now!"

Corin doesn't hesitate to give him the information, in fact, he sounds relieved to hear the large Mandalorian's voice. Once he has what he needs, the heavy gunner releases Din and stalks off in the direction of the covert's exit. He can hear the bounty hunter calling after him as he leaves the hangar.

He's just stepping out into the dimming light of the evening when he senses Din fall in line behind him. He doesn't question the man; his whole focus now is finding Jon, and may the gods have mercy on anyone that gets in his way.

He makes a quick check of the coordinates that Corin had rattled off to him then sets out at a brisk pace.

Din stays on his heels as Paz uses his sheer size and bulk to plow through the crowd still milling about on the streets. It takes far too long to find the small alcove near the metal working shop, and the heavy gunner might have even looked over the darkened entrance to the alley if it hadn't been for the beskar clad shadows prowling the rooftops overhead. The few members of the tribe Raga had taken with her weren't trying to stay hidden now, this was a clear threat to anyone that thought to investigate the small side street.

Corin steps out to greet them when they get close enough, the trooper's eyes are red-rimmed like he'd been trying to keep himself from crying. He can hear Raga's voice drifting out from the side street, still talking softly in a mix between Mando'a and Basic, but the thing that has Paz' bristling is the fact that his mechanic wasn't responding. Other than the quiet mumbled words from the woman, the street was silent.

"Jon isn't hurt," the ex-trooper quickly states once he draws near, eyes snapping over to Din before looking back to the larger Mandalorian. "I- I think it was a panic attack- he- Paz, he acted like he thought I was going to  _ hit _ him."

Paz' brain blanks at the term 'panic attack', gut clenching painfully. Without a word he moves forward, reaching out a hand to gently squeeze one of Corin's arms as he pushes past. The alley is tiny, and his armor makes it difficult to maneuver in the small space, but eventually he spies the red armored Mandalorian kneeling in front of a smaller figure.

Jon is curled into himself, one shoulder pressing into the hard wall behind him. His mechanic's face is pale, and his eyes have a glazed appearance, as if the man wasn't fully present in the moment, and they flicker about the cramped street. Raga cocks her helm around to look at the heavy gunner, her posture is tense as he approaches.

"He won't let me touch him,  _ vod _ ," Raga's voice cracks, the normally put together Mandalorian sounding helpless in the face of an enemy no one knew how to defeat.

He gently reaches out to nudge her out of his way. She hesitates, and seems like she's about to argue, but one look towards the mechanic drains the fight out of her. He lowers his large form into the spot Raga had been occupying and glances up to see Jon's eyes are settled on him now.

" _ Cyare _ ," Paz calls, his voice the same low rumble he uses to calm the man after a nightmare.

The reaction is immediate, the smaller male breathes in like he's just breached the surface of a lake. Those green eyes the Mandalorian had come to adore clear and Jon uncurls the tiniest bit.

" _ Ner kar'ta _ ," the larger man whispers. He rips one of his gloves off, tossing it in the direction of Raga, and reaches out towards the mechanic with his palm facing up; inviting the man to make the first move. " _ Gedet'ye, k'olar _ ."

Jon moves slowly, movements uncoordinated like he was still in a daze, until he's pressing hard into the Mandalorian's arms. It feels like the man is trying to burrow under the armor itself. The smaller male pushes his face under Paz' chin, seeking out his favorite spot… seeking out comfort. Paz folds his body around his beloved, sheltering him from the outside world beyond their little alley.

Now that he's sure the man is safe and uninjured, his brain begins forming questions.

He needs to know what caused this…

So he can destroy it.

" _ Meg ru'banar?" _

"I-," the man's voice is a strained croak and Paz winces in sympathy but doesn't try to stop him. Merely waits patiently. "- I  _ saw _ 'im, Paz."

The heavy gunner brings his ungloved hand up to run his fingers through the unruly brown locks under the chin of his helm. Jon seemed to be responding well to the use of Mando'a, so he keeps using it, but Paz isn't sure how far Jon's understanding of his language is, so he keeps his questions short and simple. He also isn't sure how well the man's cognitive functions are in this state.

" _ Tion'ad? _ "

The mechanic's entire body spasms with the force of the next sob. Paz tightens his hold on the lithe form, heart aching as he listens to his  _ cyare _ 's struggle to calm himself enough to answer.

The response, when it comes, sends a cold chill of raw fury down his spine:

"My da'. He's  _ here _ ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vod- brother/sister  
> Kov'nynir- Keldabe kiss, affectionate head-butt  
> K'oyacyi- multiple meanings, in this instance it's literally used as a command "Stay alive!"  
> 'ika- diminutive suffix, added to name as a very familiar or childhood form.  
> Gedet'ye- please  
> Meg vaabir gar linibar- what do you need?  
> Beskar'gam- Mandalorian armor  
> Buir- parent  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Ner kar'ta- my heart  
> Gedet'ye, k'olar- please, come here  
> Meg ru'banar- what happened?  
> Tion'ad- who


	14. Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The clan is angry and Paz goes on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Wizardmoonwhiper for their beta skills and being an awesome person in general while my insomnia delayed this chapter.
> 
> Also, thank you to Militia for the wonderful fanart of our favorite boys!!!

Ghas sedates Jon when they manage to make it back to the covert.

Paz doesn’t like it, but the mechanic is still in somewhat of a catatonic state, and the medic doesn’t want him to spiral down into another panic attack.

The heavy gunner paces the length of the room while the smaller man sleeps peacefully on one of the medbay’s cots. Once the medic had finished taking the mechanic’s vitals, Ghas had retreated to the other side of the room, intending to give the small clan some level of privacy. Raga is leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest plate, hands gripping so hard into her arms he’s sure there would be bruises later. The twins are hovering near Jon’s bed, tense and solemn while watching over their _vod_.

Din, Corin, and the kid are also here, hanging back at the edge of the group. The ex-trooper has the child tucked into his chest, and his eyes haven’t left the brunette since the man had fallen asleep under the pull of the anesthesia.

A tense silence hangs over the room, the only sound is the harsh noise of his boots on the stone floor.

“What was that,” Din questions, helmet tracking the heavy gunner’s movements.

Paz nearly snarls at the man, but just manages to reign in his response. He takes a deep breath, tries to remind himself that this wasn’t the bounty hunter’s fault. He wasn’t the one he should be directing his fury towards.

Raga’s voice is quiet, contemplating, when she speaks. “He said he saw him, Paz-”

“I _know_ ” he grits out harshly through his teeth.

“Saw _who,"_ Din asks impatiently, moving forward when no one answers.

The large Mandalorian has to give the other man some credit, the bounty hunter had quite the pair on him. This becomes very evident when the shorter warrior _steps_ into his path, effectively halting him in the middle of his next lap around the room.

“ _Move_ ,” his voice sounds feral even to him and has Din shifting uneasily.

But the _beyora_ doesn’t back down. Just kriffing stands there looking up at him.

“Who did Jon see?”

Din’s voice is soft, almost like he’s trying to soothe a spooked animal. Paz can’t remember a time when he’s ever heard the man sound like that. Was that the tone he used to calm the child if the little one was upset?

He nearly snorts at the mental image.

The sound of a throat clearing has everyone in the room to sharply turn to the doorway.

The _Alor_ enters the room and approaches the gurney first, her gold helm shifting to scan over the unconscious man, then she turns to Paz.

She does not ask, she doesn’t need to.

The heavy gunner knows she is waiting for an explanation.

He hesitates.

Paz glances at his beloved and clenches his jaw. When he speaks, it feels like some kind of betrayal. Jon had trusted him with this small piece of his past, and here he was telling it to a room full of his _vod’e._ He didn’t know the details, he had never asked, and his mechanic had never shared more than what he was comfortable with. He knew enough though, snippets of memories Jon had mumbled into his neck in the throes of a nightmare. Things that made him squeeze the man to his chest in a near bone crushing hug. Things that sometimes kept him up at night plotting what he would do to the monster that prowled his mechanic’s dreams.

But they were Jon’s _vod’e_ too weren’t they? A small part of his mind whispered.

That thought eases his conscience a bit. He doesn't think Jon would hold it against him for letting this slip. He hopes that the mechanic doesn’t at least…

The room falls silent afterwards, but now there is an undercurrent of anger hanging over the group. The Armorer had turned her attention back to the mechanic at some point during the explanation, helm cocked in thought. Tentatively, she reaches a gloved hand out and turns the man’s head to the side then tugs the collar of his loose shirt away from his neck. The heavy gunner knows what she is seeing as he watches his Matriarch's shoulders tense. There had been times when his own eyes had strayed to the barely visible markings peeking just over the nape of Jon’s top. 

" _Cin vhetin_ ," his _Alor_ hums sagely, helm never turning from Jon's form. "Here within the covert, one's past does not matter-"

Paz straightens, opens his mouth to argue but his leader's voice lowers into a growl with her next words.

"-However, that does not mean the past should be forgiven so easily."

" _Alor ,_ " Raga calls out as she pushes off the wall, posture rigid with anger.

" _Alor'ad_ , Jon is part of your _aliit_ ," it’s not a question, but the Armorer still waits for his nod before continuing. "We owe much to your _cyare_. He has tended to our fleet with no expectations of repayment. Find this- man. Make him understand that he is not welcome on this world."

"And if he does not leave," the heavy gunner asks. A part of him hopes that the man doesn't, that he tries to put up some kind of a fight.

"Then kill him," the _Alor_ states, tone almost dismissive. She gives the mechanic one more glance before taking her leave. "This is the way."

The Mandalorians automatically repeat back the phrase, with less enthusiasm than normal, as their leader departs.

"I- I didn't see him," Corin mumbles a moment later, a note of self-loathing seeping into his voice. "I should have-"

Paz huffs. "You got Jon somewhere safe and quiet until I arrived. You did everything right, _vod_."

The ex-trooper doesn't look entirely convinced but he doesn't argue the point.

"We're going to have to ask Jon."

It's Arsu that states the obvious but all the same Paz freezes when the realization sinks in. His mechanic had shied away from this topic and the heavy gunner had never pushed because it had brought the man pain but with the clear order from his _Alor_ hanging over his head…

This wasn't going to be pleasant for anyone involved.

Paz settles in to wait for his _cyare_ to wake.

He isn't surprised when the others make themselves comfortable, refusing to leave the medbay while one of their own slept.

*~~*~~*~~*

Jon doesn't stir for several hours. By then, Din and his clan had to venture back out into the covert to find the child something to eat. 

When the mechanic shifts on the gurney, Raga immediately directs the twins away to allow Paz to stand over the man. The mechanic groans and squints blearily up at the heavy gunner.

" _Ner kar'ta_ ," he breaths, leaning down to touch his helm to the smaller man's forehead.

Jon doesn't pull away from the touch, seems to press into the gesture a bit more, and Paz takes that as a good sign. He reaches a hand up to curl around the back of the man's neck, drawing his mechanic in closer.

He hates what he has to do next.

Pulling away, Paz clears his throat. "Jon- I've never pushed before but-."

He faults there because his mechanic is looking up at him with wide eyes. There's a hint of fear in those eyes, but he doesn't think it's directed at him.

At least, he hopes it isn't…

"Jon- I need to know what- _he_ looks like."

The brunette looks away, eyes skimming around the room until they fall on Raga and the twins then they snap back up to his visor.

"Wha' are ya gonna do?"

"Talk- _mostly_. We just want to- talk," Raga snarls ominously, attempting to move closer to the bed but the twins intercept the irate Mandalorian.

Jon quirks a brow at her before his eyes track back up to Paz' helm. "Yer gonna kill 'im, ain't ya?"

"Not if he leaves the planet. However, I can't promise that he won't get out of our- chat- uninjured."

The mechanic snorts at the larger man and moves to sit up on the gurney. The smaller man chews on his bottom lip for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"I didn't wan' ta drag ya into my crap-"

" _Gar're aliit. Ibic cuyir meg vi vaabir._ " Raga huffs.

Jon sends the woman a watery smile, breath catching in his throat then he glances down at his fidgeting hands, before finally responding.

"He- I guess he looks like me. Or is it tha other way 'round? He's jus'- bigger. I n'ver grew to be as tall as 'im, though," the smaller man trails off, refusing to look up from his lap.

Paz reaches an ungloved hand out, combing his fingers through the brown locks and shifts closer to the bed. "Jon, what is his name?"

"-Jereth."

*~~*~~*~~*

Once he'd been cleared by Ghas, Jon had asked to return to the hangar with the thinly veiled guise of returning to work on the RazorCrest. Paz had relented if only to give the man something to focus on while he got to the task at hand. The heavy gunner hadn't pointed out the smaller man's still shaking hands, but he doesn't doubt the others had seen them.

He leaves his mechanic in the care of his _aliit_. Raga had looked like she wanted to throttle him when Paz had asked her to stay behind with Jon.

He'd fled back to the surface before the woman could start in on the complaints though.

He knows he'll hear about it later anyway.

While he has a general description of his target, he also has a very good idea of where the man might be found.

He just has to find a canteen or bar.

It doesn't take long to find the only drinking hole in the shopping district. It's a rundown little place, tucked into a back street not too far from the dark alley Corin had used as a refuge earlier. The few stumbling drunks wandering the main roads of the area had made the finding the place easy enough for Paz. He eyes the few people milling about the area before stepping into the cantina.

The interior isn't much better than the outside. It's poorly lit and the room smells musty from the lack of proper air flow, the crumbling plaster walls make it seem like the building was ready to give way over their heads at any moment. There's a band at least, but the members seem to have indulged a bit too much in the offered liquor because the noise that comes from their instruments isn't exactly what Paz would call music… it sounded more like a couple of dying loth cats actually.

The Mandalorian moves towards one of the back tables and settles in to wait.

Surprisingly, it doesn't take long for someone to approach him, but it's not the waitress he's seen fluttering around the tables taking orders. A large Besalisk stands from where it had been leaning against the bar and steps right into Paz' line of sight.

"Not see Mandalorians on this world," the creature hums in poor Basic, cocking its head in curiosity before a wide grin splits its face. "Mandos need supplies, yes? To make armor?"

He nearly lets out a bone deep sigh. Maybe he was spending too much time with Din…

"I didn't come here to buy. Besides I've already bought what I need," Paz keeps his voice bored and uninterested. It was a half truth though, technically it had been Corin and Jon who had done the buying.

Instead of taking the hint, the Besalisk narrows his eyes at the Mandalorian.

"Erdi is only smith! There are no others. You buy from Erdi or you don't get materials."

Paz does let his temper flare here. The creature was distracting him from his mission, and he didn't have time for this.

"My _cyare_ bought our supplies already so piss off!"

'Erdi's' posture immediately relaxes as he blinks down at him in confusion.

" _Cyare_ ," the creature repeats back in a questioning tone, mumbling under its breath in a language Paz can't understand. " _Cyare_ is Mando. Means beloved, yes?"

The heavy gunner doesn't respond, his own eyes narrowing behind his visor as he bristles.

Erdi hums and nods. "Little one is your mate."

Paz blinks at the term 'little one'. It's not exactly an incorrect description for his mechanic. 

"Erdi likes little one. They act big," the creature chuckles, and the Mandalorian watches in stunned silence when the being shoves its bulk into the booth to sit across from him.

This wasn't how he pictured this evening going.

'Erdi' glances around the room then and turns a frown back towards Paz a moment later.

"Where little one?"

There's a genuine hint of concern in the Besalisk's tone. Maybe that's why he tolerates the being's company for a bit longer.

"Home. He- wasn't feeling well."

The creature stares down at the Mandalorian with it's wide unblinking eyes before it seems to accept that was the only answer it was going to get. Erdi grunts and takes a swig from the bottle in one of its hands.

An idea filters into his head and Paz cocks his helm at the being in front of him.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone with the name Jereth? Brown haired human-."

He's cut off by a disgruntled snort from Erdi. The creature rocks back in its seat and levels the heavy gunner with a flat look.

"Jereth trouble. Not good human like your little one. Many no want in shops. Erdi does _not_ like him."

Paz straightens in his seat. "Really? Do you know where I can find him?"

The being spreads its four arms out to motion around them and the room. "Here most nights- and days. Drinks a lot. Gets mean when Jereth drinks. Starts fights. Breaks things."

The heavy gunner hums thoughtfully and waves the waitress off when she moves towards their table. He half expects the Besalisk to leave him be after that, but is surprised when the metal worker stays. He finds he doesn’t mind as much as he would have before meeting Jon. Besides, Erdi is giving him good cover. With the creature happily chatting across the booth from him, it actually looks like he’s just another customer in the bar.

It’s less than an hour later when Paz’ attention is pulled towards the entrance to the cantina. He knows it’s Jereth the moment the man steps through the door. The man saunters into the room like he owns the damn place, and the Mandalorian feels his haunches raise. He hates that the man looks like Jon with the same light brown hair and scruff his mechanic sports after days of working on the fleet. But, unlike his _cyare_ , Jereth’s face is twisted into a sneer and he’s taller.

Paz suddenly has a vision of a much younger, much smaller Jon cowering in the shadow of this monster. He grits his teeth and watches out of the corner of his visor as this man slides up to the bar to start speaking to one of the bartenders.

“You not bounty hunter,” Erdi mumbles quietly across the table.

When the Mandalorian glances over, the creature is crouched over its drink eyeing Jereth thoughtfully.

“You angry,” the metal worker grunts, nodding towards the monster at the bar. “Jereth did something- to little one?”

Paz snorts, but he doesn’t correct Erdi nor does he answer.

That appears to be all that the creature needs as confirmation.

“Erdi help,” the Besalisk states, leaning back to level the heavy gunner with a pointed glare.

“He’s mine,” the Mandalorian growls.

The merchant grins down at Paz. “You get Jereth, yes. Erdi watch door.”

He should argue, turn down the offer, but the more he sits there, the angrier he gets. The prospect of Jereth getting out of this with his life was looking bleaker by the minute.

Paz slowly nods at the creature. “Alright. I just want to get him somewhere quiet.”

“Erdi get him behind bar. Dark street back there. You go. No one will hear.”

The heavy gunner hesitates, glancing towards the bar before standing.

It’s easy to find his way towards the back exit. What isn’t easy is waiting for Erdi to appear. Every minute he paces the shadows of the darkened alleyway he finds himself regretting blindly trusting the merchant.

Paz is so focused on rethinking this whole scenario that he startles when the exit bangs open and Jereth is tossed unceremoniously at his feet. Erdi shoves his form through the door right after the man and leans its weight against it.

“What the kriff are you doing, Erdi,” the man hisses, though he falters a moment later when he spots the Mandalorian. “Oh, well now. This is a surprise. Someone finally sent a Mando after me? I’m honored.”

He wasn’t sure if he could hate someone more than the imperials that had caused his people to flee below ground to survive, but Jereth was pushing those limits.

“Jon.”

The name comes out as a growl and the man in front of him blinks up at the heavy gunner.

Jereth chuckles when the pieces seem to fall into place for him. “The little shit sent you? Should have known the runt wouldn’t have the nerve to come here himself. How much he paying you Mando-.”

Paz’ hand clamps down around the man’s throat before he’s able to finish his question. He had heard enough.

“You don’t get to speak about him that way,” the Mandalorian grunts. “I was sent here to get you to leave the planet, but I’ve got another idea. You and me, we’re going to have a long night together.”

*~~*~~*~~*

It’s well past midnight when he returns to the covert. Surprisingly, the hangar is empty. Raga must have thrown her weight around until Jon had agreed to retire for the night. He’d make sure to thank her later.

He knows there is no way the mechanic is sleeping, not without him in the bed with him. So, he doesn’t make an effort to sneak into their shared room.

Sure enough, Jon is awake. The smaller man jumps when the heavy gunner pushes the door open and they stare at each other for a few minutes. The brunette’s eyes track down to Paz’ hands and the Mandalorian shifts uneasily. He had debated removing his bloody gloves before coming here, now he wishes he had.

His mechanic slowly climbs off the bed to stand in front of him.

“He’s not dead,” Paz mutters miserably. “But he probably wishes he was.”

Because damn if it hadn’t been a close thing.

He waits for the man to flinch away from him or his expression to twist into fear, but Jon instead steps closer.

“I’m sorry. I n’ver wanted ta bring you inta this,” the smaller man’s breathing hitches, leaning forward until his head bumps into the Mandalorian’s chestplate. 

Paz carefully pulls off his gloves, tossing the dirtied pair into the corner of the room before reaching out to pull the man closer.

“ _Gar're aliit. Ibic cuyir meg vi vaabir,”_ the heavy gunner repeats, hunching forward to press his helm into the man’s hair. “ _Ni kelir cabuor gar ratiin, ner kar’ta.”_

“Ya shouldn’t have ta protect me,” Jon mumbles into his chest, but he moves closer to nudge his way under the helmet’s chin.

They stay like that for a while, neither willing to let the other go. Paz does finally move back when he hears his mechanic yawn against his neck and he gently nudges the man in the direction of their bed.

“Let’s go to bed, Jon. We’ll talk about the rest in the morning.”

The Mandalorian sheds his armor and stows it in a pile near the bed, hesitates for only a second before pulling the rest of his clothing off, then climbs under the blanket next to his waiting _cyare_. Jon curls into his side, nearing burrowing under his bulk. Paz runs a hand through those unruly locks he’s come to adore, listening to the man hum happily.

The larger man freezes at the next words his mechanic whispers into the quiet of their room.

“ _Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum._ ”

The Mandalorian shuffles impossibly closer to the smaller man.

A part of him feels guilty for lying to the man.

His only hope is that Erdi can keep his kriffing mouth shut.

And that no one finds the body...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vod- Sister/brother, Vod’e is the plural  
> Beyora- bounty huner  
> Cin vhetin- fresh start, clean slate  
> Alor- leader  
> Alor’ad- captain  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Ner kar’ta- my heart  
> Gar're aliit. Ibic cuyir meg vi vaabir- You’re family. This is what we do.  
> Aliit- family  
> Ni kelir cabuor gar ratiin, ner kar’ta- I will always protect you, my heart.  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum- I love you


	15. Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz comes clean. Jon is angry. Corin has no idea what's happening and how he got here. Din.exe has stopped working. Raga is having the time of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wizardmoonwhisper: Hylo... you have to sleep...  
> Hylo: No, this is fine. I'll sleep when I'm dead.  
> Wizardmoonwhisper: No, absolutely not.
> 
> Edit: Fixed an error that slipped by me and my beta reader. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Paz is currently experiencing a case of déjà vu and he is hating every kriffing second of it.

Mostly, because he feels like absolute shit… again.

There are two different voices, opposing sides of his conscience, battling for dominance in his mind. One side is constantly hissing at him, commanding him to tell his mechanic the truth. The other is whispering… thoughts. Dark fears he'd pushed to the deep recesses of his brain.

 _Jon would be terrified of you_ , it murmurs quietly. _You'll lose him._

The heavy gunner has faced many opponents over the years. He's faced down battalions of stormtroopers and come out of those fights barely breaking a sweat.

But the thought that Jon would leave him… That was a horrid feeling and left a sour taste in his mouth.

His guilt doesn't alleviate over the next few days. In fact, it grows heavier, settling like a lead weight in the pit of his stomach.

It doesn't help that his _cyare_ is unusually silent these days.

Ghas had tried to soothe his worries somewhat.

"We all deal with trauma in different ways, _Alor'ad_ ," the medic had told him. "Give him time but don't push. I'm sure he'll come around."

He doesn't push, but he does hover. Jon throws him the occasional exasperated look as he continues to piece the _RazorCrest_ back together. However, the smaller man makes no move to get him to leave, so Paz takes it as permission to keep an eye on the mechanic.

It's three days later, Din had just left the _Crest_ to check in on Corin and the child, leaving them alone inside the damaged vessel. Paz is seated on the floor watching Jon contort his lithe form into a small opening within the cargo bay's walls checking the ship's wiring. The silence is deafening in the small space without the constant stream of words flowing from the smaller man.

"He's dead."

It takes the Mandalorian a moment to realize the blurted confession had come from his own traitorous mouth. Paz feels his heart speed up as the mechanic slowly extracts himself from the open wall paneling and sits back on his heels. The brunette doesn't look at him, merely blinks at the wall in front of him for a moment.

"Ya killed 'im, then," Jon states simply, it isn't a question, and Paz holds his breath as he carefully watches the mechanic from his place on the floor.

When the smaller male turns to finally glance in his direction, the heavy gunner is a little shocked to find no anger on his _cyare's_ face. Instead, Jon looks… annoyed.

_Huh._

"Y-you aren't angry?"

The man huffs. "At ya killin' 'im? Nah, he's been dead ta me fer years. But-."

"But?"

Jon levels a heated glare at the Mandalorian and the heavy gunner swallows. 

"Ya lied ta me, Paz."

"I-I did," he reluctantly admits, lowering his helm in apology. " _Ni ceta._ I didn't want to tell you because- I thought you'd be disgusted by my actions. I feared you'd-"

 _Leave,_ goes unsaid. He doesn’t have the courage to look up and meet Jon’s eyes. He doesn’t want to see the disgust and disappointment there.

He startles when Jon slides into his lap, his brain going blessedly silent after days of frantic worry. The larger man cautiously brings his hands up to settle around thin hips, almost expecting his touch to be rejected, and looks up at the mechanic straddling his legs in wonder.

"Yer an idiot. _Utreekov_ ," the man snorts, looking completely unimpressed.

A warm hand curls around his neck, fingers deftly slipping under the armor and _kute_ to press against the bare skin underneath. A shiver runs down his spine and Paz' grip on the other man tightens.

"Ya think ya can get rid of me so kriffin' easy," Jon asks, tilting his head so he was looking directly into the helmet's visor. "Yer stuck wit' me, big guy."

The Mandalorian leans in to press his helm to the man's forehead then. The mechanic hums happily before digging his nails sharply into the flesh at the back of Paz' neck, eliciting a hiss from the heavy gunner.

"Do't you go lyin' ta me again, ya hear," Jon snarls, eyes flashing with righteous fury. "We're a team. I ain't n'var lied ta ya. I expect the same from ya."

Arousal curls in his gut even as he nods up at his _cyare._ He pulls the brunette closer, one hand squeezing a hip while the other moves up to glide under Jon's loose shirt, skimming his fingers over the scarred tissue of the man's back.

He's just debating on whether or not to shed his gloves when the sound of something heavy being knocked over causes both men to jump. He and Jon turn towards the source of the noise only to discover Din had, apparently, returned at some point while they were… distracted.

"Really," the bounty hunter shouts, sounding slightly hysterical as he motions around the cargo bay. "Here?! You- I- Out!"

"You get out," Paz growls. "We were here first."

"This is my ship!"

"Din? Why are you yelling," Corin's voice drifts into the vessel, a moment later his head pokes around the ship’s entrance to glance inside.

The stormtrooper freezes when he spots the pair, eyes going wide and face flushing a bright red.

"W-what's going on," the ex-imperial sputters, eyes flickering between the bounty hunter and the pair still seated on the floor.

"Do I really need ta have tha' talk wit' ya, Corin?"

Jon's flat response causes the heavy gunner to snort in amusement as he watches Din bristle like an angry loth cat. The heavy gunner tips head back so his helm thumps softly against the durasteel wall.

_Paz never wants this to end._

"No! Stop! Both of you, get out! Now," the shorter Mandalorian snaps while Corin makes a sound akin to a dying animal in the background.

"Watch yer attitude, _beyora_. Or you might have ta fix tha ship yer damn self," the mechanic hisses, making no move to pull himself up from his place on the larger man's legs.

Din falters, his shoulders slumping and the man heaves a bone-deep sigh.

_He never wants to let go._

The heavy gunner pulls his mechanic more flush against his chest and nuzzles into one collarbone, steeling himself.

 _Say it, you kriffing hut’uun,_ his brain barks sharply.

“Paz,” he hears Din growl in warning.

Jon turns a concerned eye to the heavy gunner when he doesn’t respond to the bounty hunter’s baiting. The mechanic opens his mouth but the Mandalorian is quick to interrupt before his nerves get the best of him.

"Marry me?"

All three men freeze, Jon's jaw snapping shut with an audible click. Corin's breath catches in the back of his throat and the bounty hunter reaches out a hand to flail blindly in the ex-trooper's direction.

"Corin, out. Go," Din whispers hoarsely, stumbling towards the ship's ramp himself. "Now." 

A moment later, the trooper is yanked out of the doorway with a yelp and the sound of boots fade into the distance.

" _Cyar'ika_? Jon?"

The man blinks down at him with wide green eyes, for once stunned into silence, and Paz chuckles. His rumbling laughter jostling the man still seated comfortably in his lap enough to wake him from his stupor.

"I- thin' I might hav' had some crazy in ma ear. Wha' did ya jus' say?"

" _Cyare_ , marry me. _Gedet'ye?_ "

Jon sucks in a breath and reaches out to place his hands on either side of his helmet, leaning forward to press a _kov’nynir_ to the metal.

"Kriff. I want ta kiss ya-"

"If you say yes, then you'll be able to."

"-Did ya jus' try to extort me?"

"No- Maybe, just a little."

"Kriff, yer a _di'kut_ ," Jon huffs, smacking a hand into one of his pauldrons.

"Is that anyway to speak to your fiancé?"

"I do't recall sayin' yes, yet."

"But- you _were_ going to say yes, right," Paz quietly asks, all of his confidence slowly draining from his body the longer the mechanic doesn't answer.

"Ya really are a _di'kut_ ," Jon snorts, shifting to press his face into the junction between the Mandalorian's shoulder and neck. "'Course I'll marry ya. Someone has ta make sure ya do't get yerself killed and I'm pretty sure Raga is tired of doin' it."

"A little, yes," an amused voice calls out from the entrance.

When they both turn, Raga is leaning against the doorframe somehow looking rather smug despite her helmet.

"How long have you been there?"

The woman shrugs. "Long enough. I got curious when Din and Corin fled the hangar. I think you might have traumatized them."

"They did't even see nothin'," his mechanic snorts from his place curled into Paz' neck. “Cry babies.”

The heavy gunner combs a hand through the man's hair and Raga shakes her head fondly at them.

"Is there a reason you're still here, Raga?"

"Besides, making sure you two don't get busy in the _Crest_ -"

"Get busy," Jon asks, pulling back to quirk a brow at the woman.

"-I just wanted to be the first to congratulate my _vod'e_ ," Raga continues without acknowledging the mechanic's interruption.

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz spends the rest of the day in a happy little haze.

Honestly, compared to the previous cycles, it was a definite improvement.

For once it didn't seem like Raga was pissed at him for something and the twins hovered around Jon with an air of excitement. Every time his eyes landed on his future his chest filled with so much joy it was almost difficult to breathe.

Was it possible to die from this? He'd ask Ghas later.

"You might have competition."

The heavy gunner glances at Raga out of the corner of his visor before returning his eyes to Jon's form.

They're still in the hangar. Accepted proposal or not, the mechanic still had work to do. The mechanic's attention had moved to the outer part of the ship as he continued his inspection of the vessel's wiring. Paz had taken to openly ogling his mechanic from where he was leaning against a nearby workstation. From how Jon kept throwing him suggestive looks over his shoulder, the heavy gunner was pretty sure he wasn't being subtle.

A firm smack to his chestplate pulls the large Mandalorian's awareness back to the woman standing next to him.

"Are you going to listen to me or are you just going to continue staring at Jon's ass?"

Paz considers his options, then: "Can I do both?"

Raga groans, throwing her hands up in frustration. "You're both impossible and I don't know why I put up with either of you."

"Because you adore Jon and tolerate me, but at this point we're a package deal."

The woman goes quiet for a moment before leveling, what Paz can only assume, a glare at him.

"Don't test me, _Alor'ad_."

The heavy gunner chuckles. Glancing over at his mechanic and the twins then turning his helm towards the female Mandalorian currently cursing his existence quietly from her place at his side.

"What do you mean 'competition'?"

"Now he's paying attention," Raga mumbles under her breath.

"Raga-"

The woman sighs, tipping her helmet upwards. "It's Rork-"

"Again?!"

"Apparently, he's got it in his head that if he can beat you in combat then he might have a chance with Jon."

Paz tilts his helm curiously. "He realizes that Jon is a person, right? That he can make his own choices."

 _And he had chosen Paz,_ his brain hisses furiously.

"I never said the man was smart, Paz. He also seems to have forgotten that no one has been able to defeat you in hand-to-hand combat in- what? Seven years? Din was the only one of us that ever got close and he's got his own _cyare_ so there's no competition there."

The heavy gunner huffs. His mood suddenly soured by the idea that one of his _vod'e_ considered Jon some kind of prize that could be won.

"Ghas has tried to talk some sense into him but that man is all helmet and no brain," Raga quietly states.

The larger Mandalorian hums, turning back towards his mechanic , and blinks in surprise. The smaller male was standing on one of the twin's shoulders in order to reach a higher compartment on the exterior of the ship. The sight was almost comical, and Paz found himself smiling fondly.

"Rork doesn't stand a chance. I’d destroy him if he even tried anything,” Paz pauses here, glancing at Raga. “Do you really think Jon would leave me for him?"

The woman actually laughs at that, bumping her shoulder into his side. “You are an absolute _di’kut_!”

“Everyone keeps saying that and I’m starting to get offended-”

"There’s no way in hell! Jon looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky."

The heavy gunner lets out a shaky breath, smile growing wider under his helm.

"Let Rork come then if he really wants me to hand him his ass," the heavy gunner growls. "He's been treading on a few toes around the covert anyway. A few have come to me regarding his… attitude."

"Several of our _vod'e_ in the covert are quite keen on Jon too. He'd be foolish to try anything," Raga states, falling silent afterwards.

Paz hums in agreement.

He makes a mental note to keep an eye on his mechanic.

*~~*~~*~~*

"So wha's a Mando weddin' like," Jon questions later, sprawled over top of his chest.

They're back in the room, lying in bed together. On most nights now, they forgo clothing. The heavy gunner delighting in running one hand through messy brown locks and skimming the other down the naked scarred back of his _cyare_. Jon is in his usual favorite spot, head tucked under the chin of his helm with his nose buried into the larger man's neck. One of the smaller man's hands is gliding over his bicep, sleepily exploring.

Paz hums, carefully working a few fingers through a knot in the wild mess of hair.

"There's a vow. We both repeat it, normally in front of the _Alor_ within the forge."

"-Tha's it?"

"Yes? Does that bother you?"

The mechanic hums, already sounding like he's half asleep. "Nah. I like tha' idea. Nothin' fancy, jus' simple an' to the point."

Paz firmly places a hand on the center of the man's back, pressing him closer. He's too worked up to sleep, more than likely he'll be awake for a while after the mechanic nods off. He doesn't mind, though. In fact, the Mandalorian finds he's quite comfortable like this.

_"Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, riduur. Slanar at nuhoy."_

Jon mumbles something incoherently back, breath ghosting over the large man's neck and sending a shiver down his spine.

His mind wanders while his mechanic snores quietly from his perch atop his chest. Brain circling back around to the conversation he'd had with Raga from earlier in the day.

It was frowned upon among Mandalorians to covet another's beloved. Paz might not even have to lift a finger if Rork kept up this ridiculous obsession he had with Jon.

Still, he wasn't willing to take any chances.

Especially, when it was his _cyare's_ safety in question.

He might have to seek advice from his Matriarch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyare- beloved  
> Ni ceta- Sorry, a groveling apology  
> Alor’ad- captain  
> Utreekov- fool, idiot (literally means empty head)  
> Kute- undersuit  
> Di’kut- idiot  
> Kov'nynir- headbutt, Mandalorian kiss  
> Beyora- bounty hunter  
> Hut’uun- coward  
> Cyar’ika- sweetheart, darling  
> Gedet’ye- Please  
> Vod- singular for brother sister, vod’e is plural  
> Riduur- Spouse  
> Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, riduur. Salnar at nuhoy- I love you, husband (or wife/spouse). Go to sleep.


	16. Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The child goes on an adventure and Jon follows along. Rork makes an appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wizardmoonwhisper: How can you turn out these chapters so quickly?  
> Me: It's a talent, I guess.  
> Also me: *has had literally 3 hours of sleep in the last 72 hours* ಥ_ಥ
> 
> Thank you everyone for your lovely comments. Please excuse me for not responding to them as I am a garbage person at remembering to do so. ◉_◉
> 
> Warnings: Foul language in this chapter, peeps!

Jon doesn't remember a time in his life where he's been this happy.

Which was probably a little sad in retrospect.

So, it's kind of a pain in the ass when his mind decides it's going to ruin his good mood by overthinking. It doesn't help that he doesn't have anyone to talk to at the moment.

Sure, the Mandos are still hovering but that's become a norm now, so when he doesn't have at least one of the armored warriors trailing behind him it's a little… weird. Not the good type of weird either. It was the kind that allowed his mind to wander and that was never a good thing for the smaller man's mental health. He's so used to hearing a second or third pair of boots echoing in the hallways behind him. Now it was quiet, and Jon _hated_ quiet. Quiet meant his brain started thinking about things he'd rather forget. Quiet didn't always _mean_ quiet for him. 

Kriff, for once he wished his brain would just shut up and let him enjoy the moment.

Today just happened to be one of those quiet days. Several of the higher ranking Mandalorians had been called to the forge and the twins were currently off world on a recon mission. That left Jon to his own devices for a few hours.

He'd just finished breakfast and was heading back to the _RazorCrest_ in the hopes that throwing himself into his work would silence those creeping thoughts. He'd almost passed a side hall when movement caught his eye and the brunette snaps his head to the left, pausing mid-step.

Toddling down the hallway, heading towards him, was the tiny green kid.

The mechanic blinks and glances around the corridor. They were alone, no sign of Din or Corin lagging lazily behind the child like they normally did when the kid got tired of being carried around.

_Huh._

Jon shifts to the side, so he was in the tot's path, and crouches down.

"Hey, thar' little guy. Where's yer _buirs_ ," the man asks, cocking his head as a thought occurs to him. "Wait- does _buir_ have a plural? Or is it like _vod_ where ya jus' add a 'E' at tha end? _Buir'e_? Tha' do't soun' right-"

A soft coo interrupts his rambling. The kid smiles happily at the mechanic, raising both hands to wave excitedly up at him.

Jon hums, a grin spreading across his lips. "Yeah, I see ya. Din and Corin do't seem like tha types ta let ya wander off alone- Did ya sneak 'way from tha other foundlin's?"

Which was a far more likely scenario. The smaller male had a great deal of respect for Banthor, the resident babysitter in the Covert. The Mandalorian knew how to handle a room full of kids with what seemed like an endless well of patience. However, Jon just couldn't see Corin or Din taking their eyes off of their foundling long enough for the little guy to go exploring on his own.

"Well, come on then. I should get ya back to Banthor 'fore one of yer dads finds ya missin',” he chuckles.

 _'An' burns this place down lookin' fer ya,'_ is mumbled under his breath.

The kid makes an unhappy noise at that, huge ears drooping. The man blinks down at the green toddler, brows furrowing in confusion.

"Ya do't wanna ta go back? Wha's wrong? Was one o' tha others mean ta ya?"

The child points down the hallway and it only takes the mechanic a second to realize that he's pointing in the direction of the hangar.

Jon arches one brow at the tot and receives an impatient huff in return.

"I ca't let ya go off on yer own," the man sighs, chewing on his bottom lip while considering his options. "Alright. I was headin' thar' maself so guess I'll have some comp'ny after all."

With those words the kid makes a happy little squeak and raises both arms in the universal sign for 'up'. The mechanic can't help the fond chuckle that slips out as he pulls the little one into his arms. 

The little guy was just too damn cute.

Tucking the tot close to his chest, Jon starts off down the hall again. He fills the silence with his normal chatter, the little one sometimes babbling or cooing back. The whole thing begins to feel a little surreal when he catches the odd, poorly pronounced Mando'a word mixed into a long string of toddler gibberish. The words themselves were too butchered for Jon to really understand what they are but it definitely sounded like Mando'a to him.

"I really hope tha' wa'n't yer first words," the man mumbles quietly. "Tha' type o' thing s'pposed to happen when yer dads are 'round."

The only answer he receives is a giggle as the kid squirms in his arms.

The tyke lets out a shriek of pure joy as they enter the hangar and the _Crest_ comes into view. The sound causes Jon to flinch, ears ringing from the volume. Still, he can't help but laugh at the kid's excitement as he starts up the ramp. Once inside he checks the area to ensure he hadn't left anything out the day before that the child could injure himself on before setting the little one down on his own two feet.

"Thar' ya go. Home sweet home."

The green kid giggles and starts wandering around the cargo hold, inspecting the still damaged areas that the mechanic hadn't fixed yet. Jon keeps a close eye on him as he makes a loop of the room then comes to a stop in front of a compartment. The mechanic nearly jumps out of his skin when the tot raises a hand and the door flings open to reveal a small space inside that had obviously been converted into the kid's sleeping quarters.

"Right," the man breaths out, bent over double after the scare and pressing a hand over his frantically beating heart. "Paz mentioned ya had other 'bilities than tha' healin' thing ya did ta me."

A frustrated chirp comes from his little charge and Jon glances up to see a clawed hand pointing at the compartment. The mechanic steps closer and peers inside, immediately spotting several toys.

"Ah. So tha's wha' ya were after. Missin' yer toys, bud?"

The kid coos in what Jon takes as an affirmative. The man leans further into the small space, gathering up a few blocks, a soft plush toy, and an odd shiny silver ball.

The child lets out an ecstatic squeal when he spots the ball and the mechanic chuckles as he drops it into the outstretched hands of the baby.

While the little one is busy with the shiny bauble, Jon sets the rest of the toys down on the floor within easy reach before turning back towards the panel he had been working on yesterday.

The mechanic frowns. He had replaced some of the scorched wiring the day prior and still needed to solder the new connections together, but…

Jon glances back at the happily playing toddler. There's no way he'd feel comfortable having an open flame around the kid. An unpleasant memory of his own childhood bubbles up to the surface at that thought, making the skin on his back twinge with phantom pain. A concerned chirp pulls him back to the present and the man shakes his head to try to clear his mind.

"I- I'm okay, little bud'," he tries to reassure but his voice comes out shaky.

The baby scowls up at him, clearing unimpressed. The tyke raises one clawed hand and tilts his head to the side, chirping curiously.

Jon's brows furrow in confusion.

He nearly huffs out a laugh when the realization hits him.

"Oh nah, little guy. It do't work like tha'. Least I do't _thin'_ it works like tha'. 'Sides, I wouldn't wanna get rid of 'em," his voice goes quiet, one hand reaching up to skim over the back of one shoulder. "They ain't all bad. Kept me from endin' up like-"

He presses one finger to the top of a scar and tries to swallow, throat suddenly feeling tight.

Jon takes a breath, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it, just like Paz had taught him. He repeats the process for a few minutes before feeling his body relax and the pressure in his chest ease.

Once he feels a little more steady, the mechanic quickly looks around the space for the kid, who hadn't moved from his place at the man's feet. Though, now the baby's scowl had deepened, and its huge ears were drooping nearly to the floor.

Jon runs a hand over his face, startling when he encounters fresh tear tracks.

_When had he started crying?_

The small male turns his face into an elbow, using his sleeve to wipe away the evidence.

"Alright, 'nough o' tha'," he huffs, feeling a little proud when his voice doesn't crack. "How 'bout ya help me fix up tha _Crest?"_

*~~*~~*~~*

When Paz steps out of the forge he's surprised to find Banthor and a disheveled Corin waiting for them. Din immediately pushes the heavy gunner out of the way to move to the man's side.

"Corin," the bounty hunter asks, reaching towards the ex-trooper.

" _Ad'ika_ is missing," the man sounds like he's on the verge of a panic attack and the large Mandalorian feels his own gut twist with worry.

"What?!"

"I should have stayed with him instead of waiting out here like a useless-"

"No, Corin. This is my fault," Banthor firmly interrupts, inclining his helm in apology. " _Ni ceta._ A few of the other foundlings pulled my attention away from the little one for a moment then when I turned back, he was gone."

Paz hears the _beyora_ let out a growl and steps forward to clamp a hand around one of the man's arms before the shorter male can launch himself at the caretaker.

" _Udesiir vod_ ," the large Mandalorian says, keeping his tone low and steady. "I'm sure the little one is still within the covert. No harm will come to him here. We will find him."

Din lets out a shaky breath and nods.

Paz turns his helm towards the trooper. The man looks pale and terrified, but his eyes are steady when they meet his own through the visor.

"Where would the little one go?"

Corin frowns, eyes narrowing in concentration.

"Maybe- our room? It's not far from the area where the other kids play" the ex-imperial glances at Din, who slowly nods his agreement.

"Then we'll start there," Raga states as she steps forward to stand next to Corin.

*~~*~~*~~*

Jon isn't really sure if the child understands everything he's telling him, but the baby seems to be listening to his rambling narrative while the mechanic works on the various inner workings of the _Crest._ The tyke toddles along after him as the man makes a circuit of the room, pointing out different systems or explaining the meaning behind the different coloring of the wires within the ship's walls.

The mechanic hadn't been willing to delve into the more serious work for fear of the child's safety, but this was a nice way to spend a morning.

"I won'er where yer _buirs_ are," the man hums.

He had expected one of the men to come looking for the tot at some point but had been surprised when neither had made an appearance after an hour had passed.

The mechanic debates grabbing the kid to go look for his guardians as he crouches down to show the tyke a tangle of wires.

"These here are gonna hav'ta be replaced," Jon states, reaching out a finger to skim over a few of the cables. "See here? They're frayed. Ca't have tha' 'cause it could start a fire."

The green child nods along, face pinched into such a serious face that Jon nearly snorts.

"I thought the others were exaggerating when they told me you never stopped talking."

The new voice startles Jon so badly he nearly brains himself on the open hatch of the compartment. He snaps his attention over to the ramp of the _RazorCrest_ to see a Mandalorian leaning against the open doorway.

The armor looks vaguely familiar, but he can't quite seem to remember where he'd seen the guy from.

"Rork," the man states, indicating himself with a sweep of one hand.

Jon grunts in acknowledgement. "Yer tha guy tha' nearly blew up his ship 'cause ya didn't know how ta fix a oil leak?"

'Rork' chuckles at that, but the sound causes an uneasy feeling to crawl its way up the smaller male's spine. He'd gone out drinking enough times in his life to spot someone that wanted something from him. He eyes the Mandalorian and glances down at _ad'ika_. The small green baby is giving the armored man the single most intense stink-eye that the mechanic had ever seen. He's pretty sure the little guy had learned that particular expression from Din.

"So," Jon forces out slowly. "Thar' a reason yer sneakin' 'round scarin' people half ta death?"

The Mandalorian huffs and takes a step closer. Jon immediately moves to the side, attempting to keep the man's attention on himself instead of the little one at his feet.

"I just wanted to see if it was true."

"Wha’ are ya on 'bout?"

"You and the _Alor'ad._ I heard you two were close, but I never would have pegged him as the kind of person willing to settle down."

The man was making slow progress across the room and with each step Jon moved a little further away from the kid. The last thing he wanted was for the child to get hurt if this escalated into a fight.

 _Now would be a real good time fer one of yer dads ta show up_ , the small male thought as he cast the tot a quick glance.

Jon grunts when his back suddenly hits the durasteel wall of the vessel, the Mandalorian is quick to step right into his space to keep him from moving away. A gloved hand comes up to cup his chin and the smaller man makes a noise of protest at the touch.

"Someone like you doesn't deserve to be smothered by that overgrown son of a sarlac pit."

_Wait…_

_WAIT…_

_WHAT. THE. FUCK?!_

Jon snarls, vision going a little red. In one quick move he yanks the vibro-blade from his belt and brings it up just a hair's breadth from the man's jugular.

He makes a mental note to thank the twins again for his lovely engagement present.

"Wha' did ya jus' call my _cyare_ ," he asks, voice lowered into a deep growl.

The other man makes no move to answer, though his Adam's apple jumps slightly like the guy just swallowed. When the warrior shifts his weight, the mechanic presses the knife just a bit closer.

"I do't rightly know where ya got it in yer head tha' ya could jus' come in here talkin' 'bout _my_ fiancé like tha' but if ya wanted my 'ttention tha's one way ta get it I s'ppose."

Jon takes a step forward, forcing the warrior to retreat or impale himself on the blade.

"Here's wha's gonna happen," the mechanic growls, jaw still clenched in barely restrained anger and face contorted into a feral snarl. "Yer gonna fuck right off and if I hear ya talkin' 'bout Paz like tha' again well- It ain't him ya gotta be 'fraid of."

He lets the man stew for a minute before pulling the knife back. He keeps it in his hand though as he watches the Mandalorian quickly flee the ship without a word.

Jon slowly breaths out, trying to calm himself. 

The color suddenly drains from his face when he remembers he isn’t alone in the cargo hold. The mechanic shoots the child a pleading look. 

"Please do't go tellin' yer dads I cursed in front o' ya."

The baby glances up at him, ears perking and lets out a soft chirp.

The mechanic sighs, running a hand through his hair as he tucks the vibro-blade back into its rightful place on his hip. His hands are still shaking slightly from the adrenaline rush. Looking over the still opened paneling, Jon chews his lip before making a decision.

"How 'bout a nap," the man asks his little assistant. "I thin' we both deserve a rest."

 _Ad'ika_ makes a happy little noise at that and makes grabby hands towards Jon, clearly wanting to be picked up.

Jon attempts to put the little one in his own small sleeping quarters but the baby refuses to be set down, claws digging into the flesh of the man's arms. So, after a moment's pause the mechanic simply shrugs and settles down on the floor of the cargo hold. The baby curls up on his chest and the man keeps one hand on the kid to ensure he doesn't go sliding off.

He wonders what's taking Corin and Din so long to come get their son, but the thought is a fleeting one as his eyes drift closed.

He'll go looking for them in a bit

Jon was just going to rest his eyes for a minute.

*~~*~~*~~*

The child isn't in the small clan's shared quarters. Corin had looked heartbroken as he glanced around the area until his eyes lit up and he fled from the room.

Din was quick to follow and Paz, along with Raga, brought up the rear. It doesn't take him long to catch on, they were headed towards the hangar.

Of course, the little guy would seek out the familiar setting of the _RazorCrest_ and not the room the clan had only been occupying for a little over a week _._ Paz nearly snorts at their own stupidity.

He immediately spots the familiar brown armor of Rork in the distance once they enter the large room. His eyes narrow when he realizes the man was walking _away_ from Din's ship. The heavy gunner sees Raga bristle out of the corner of his visor and he speeds up his pace, easily overtaking the two parents with his longer stride.

Paz's breath catches in his throat when he enters the hold of the _Crest_ only to see Jon's prone form laying on the cold steel floor. The child is curled onto the mechanic chest and they're both so still that the Mandalorian's heart seizes in his ribcage. He staggers forward, falling to his knees next to the two, one shaking hand reaching out…

And nearly shrieks when one of Jon’s eyes pops open. The man blinks both eyes open a moment later and he smiles sleepily up at the Mandalorian.

The kid snuffles into the smaller man’s shirt, but remains asleep.

Paz rocks back on his heels, tipping his helm back to try to calm his breathing.

Corin, Din, and Raga stumble inside a half second later. The ex-trooper throws himself down next to the mechanic and reaches out a hand to softly touch the top of the toddler’s head.

“He was real good taday. Best assistant I’ve evar had,” Jon says around a jaw-cracking yawn.

“Why didn’t you take him back to Banthor,” Din questions, crouching down beside Corin to look over his foundling.

His mechanic snorts, rolling his eyes at the bounty hunter. “He really seemed like he wanted ta get ta tha _Crest._ ‘Sides if he could manage ta slip ‘way from Banthor once then he could pro’bly do it again so might as well have a adult tag ‘long so he do’t get ‘imself hurt.”

Jon slowly sits up so he could pass the still snoozing baby over to Corin. The ex-trooper cuddles the little one close, nosing the fizz on the kid’s head. The bounty hunter shifts so he’s able to lean closer to his family. Once the shorter Mandalorian is sure his son is in one piece, he turns to nod at Jon. The small male waves off the gesture, letting out another yawn as he does so.

“We spotted Rork outside the _Crest_ ,” Raga quietly states from her place by the door. “He- didn’t do anything, did he Jon?”

Paz’ haunches raise as a growl forms in his throat.

“Rork ca’ eat my entire ass,” Jon snarls, keeping his voice lowered to not wake the child.

Everyone in the room freezes, turning wide eyes towards the smaller man.

The mechanic pulls himself up from the floor and dusts his pants off.

“Jon,” Paz slowly drawls, raising up to inspect his mechanic a little more closely. “What did he do?”

“Nearly got himself stabbed is wha’ he did,” the mechanic growls, suddenly looking a little feral as he paces the hold. “He waltzed in here talkin’ crap ‘bout ya and I was real tempted ta stick my knife somewhere real uncomfortable.”

Paz’s brows rise into his hairline as he stares down at his _cyare_. Something primal curling in his lower stomach but before he could move the mechanic rounds on him.

“Yer _ner kar’ta._ No one gets ta talk shit ‘bout ya but me,” Jon hisses, pressing himself close to Mandalorian and leveling him with a glare.

“Well, there goes my hobby,” the heavy gunner hears Raga mumble quietly under her breath.

Jon huffs at the woman and makes his way towards the ramp of the _RazorCrest_. The mechanic pauses at the doorway and glances back at Paz with an expression that makes another spike of arousal flair up in his gut.

“Paz,” the small man calls.

“Y-yes, _cyar’ika_?”

“Room. Now.”

Jon steps out of the _Crest_ with that, the sound of his boots fading into the distance.

The heavy gunner glances at the others before clearing his throat.

“Excuse me,” Paz whispers, following after his mechanic.

He ignores Raga’s curious noise as he jogs to catch up to Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buir- Parent  
> Vod- singular for brother/sister, vod’e is the plural  
> Ad’ika- small child  
> Ni ceta- sorry, groveling apology  
> Beyora- bounty hunter  
> Udesiir- relax, take it easy, calm down  
> Alor’ad- Captain  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Ner Kar’ta- My heart  
> Cyar’ika- Darling, sweetheart


	17. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Corin head back onto the surface, hoping to have a better experience than the last time they ventured out. Din and Paz are totally okay with this arrangement... until they aren't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all can thank my beta reader, Wizardmoonwhisper, for this idea! ❤

"Are you sure about this, Jon?"

The mechanic spares the ex-stormtrooper at his side a quick glance. He'd decided last night that he wanted to return to the surface to get some fresh air and stretch his legs. Jon had expected Paz, or even Raga, to demand to come with him, but was a little surprised when Corin had been the only one to ask if he could join.

Honestly, as much as he loved the heavy gunner, it was good to spend some time apart.

What was that old saying?

Absence makes the heart grow fonder… Or something like that.

The smaller man hums. "Yeah, it'll be fine."

"But-," Corin trails off, stopping a few meters from the entrance to the covert.

The Mandalorians on guard duty seem to be doing their best not to listen in on their conversation, keeping their visors pointed firmly towards the doorway nearby. Jon still caught the two stealing looks in their direction, though.

He huffs. "It's fine, Corin. Not like we're gonna run inta 'im again."

Corin blinks over at him, tilting his head in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"He's gone," Jon replies with a shrug, eyes narrowing on the two eavesdropping warriors.

"What? Did he leave the planet or-."

"Nah, he's dead."

The trooper makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and the two other men in the corridor snap their helms around at the sound. The mechanic shoots them both an unimpressed look and they quickly go back to watching the exit.

"What happened," Corin demands, voice lowering into a quiet whisper.

Not like that was going to help though. The tunnel system leading to the many entryways of the covert were cavernous and sounds tended to echo quite clearly in the space. The mechanic rolls his eyes towards the guards.

"Paz killed 'im."

The other man stares wide-eyed at him for several minutes, mouth opening and closing in shock. Jon snorts at the ex-trooper, then turns back to the doorway.

He's just stepping out into the low light of the setting sun when Corin catches up to him and latches onto one of his arms with a firm grip. The mechanic grunts as the taller man spins him around, keeping a hold on the mechanic’s bicep.

“Paz?”

“Mhm.”

“Large Mandalorain in blue armor? Has a really big gun? That Paz?”

“-Is thar’ ‘nother Paz in tha covert?”

" _Paz_ killed your- dad?!"

"Yes, Corin."

"H-how do you feel about that?"

"I do't."

"You don't what?"

"Feel- 'bout it."

Brows furrow over those blue eyes, a look of utter disbelief on the trooper's face. It makes Jon wonder if Corin had a relationship with his own father or if they even knew each other. He couldn't imagine that the Empire much cared for things like family or friends. Not when the Imps had a galaxy to enslave.

"You're not angry."

It isn't a question so Jon merely stares blankly at the man, waiting for him to relinquish his hold so the mechanic could go on his merry way.

A few more tense minutes pass, and the smaller man heaves a sigh when it's clear that Corin wasn't going to drop this any time soon.

"The galaxy is a better place without 'im, Corin. Am I upset that Paz offed 'im? Nah, I ain't. You can bet your ass I was angry at the big _di'kut_ fer lyin' to me about it! Though tha's neither here nor thar'-."

"I-," the ex-stormtrooper looks terribly lost as he trails off.

Jon blinks up at him, patiently waiting for the other man to gather his thoughts.

"What did he do," Corin quietly asks and the mechanic lifts a brow at the question. "I- I mean your dad. Raga didn't go into details but-."

The mechanic hums, glancing around the area before giving the arm still in Corin's grip a little tug.

"Come on, bud. Walk and talk. I came out here fer some exercise."

The man gives a reluctant nod, and Jon carefully pries his arm out of the other man's grasp.

They walk for a while, Jon setting a slow pace. Last time they’d been on the surface, the mechanic hadn’t had the time to take in their surroundings in detail. Now he casually moved through the crowd or, at least, he tried. At times like this, his smaller stature was a hindrance, oftentimes he'd easily be jostled by the larger, rowdier patrons. Once the taller stormtrooper took a place by his side, however, the man noticed it was easier to carve a path through the streets.

Corin kept throwing him pointed looks, though, and the mechanic felt his haunches raising in annoyance. 

Taking a breath, he tried to remind himself that the man was just being a good friend by showing concern for his mental state.

It didn’t make the behavior any less annoying, but it did keep him from lashing out.

Savor the small victories.

Jon hums, glancing at the ex-trooper. “Let’s see. ‘Wha’ did he do- Well, ya know, ‘sides from leavin’ a small child ta care fer himself while he disappeared fer days ta binge drink.”

Corin makes a wounded noise under his breath, but the mechanic only gives a huff in reply.

“Course, he also liked ta take his frustrations out on an easy target. I can count on one hand the times I managed ta go ta bed _without_ a black eye.”

He’s aware that the trooper is openingly staring at him now, but he’s on a roll. Much like any subject, he’s finding it terribly difficult to stop his damn tongue.

“Or- or, maybe ya want ta hear about when I was fourteen,” Jon pauses at a cross street, he eyes the nearby shops without really seeing them. “He came home drunk off his ass an’ emptied a half bottle o’ whiskey on my back and tossed his lit cigarette at me.”

“Kriff,” Corin murmurs quietly next to him after a long pause.

“Yeah, kriff. So, ta answer yer question. No, I ain’t mad tha’ Paz killed ‘im.”

They stand there for a while in silence, Jon absorbed in his own thoughts, and Corin looking a little lost at this new information.

“Does tha’ make me a bad person,” Jon quietly asks the other man, he can’t bring himself to meet the trooper’s eyes. “I- _sleep_ better at night- knowin’ he ain’t out thar’ somewhere. Does tha’ make me a bad person?”

Corin hums, canting his head to the side in thought. “No. No, I don’t think it does.”

They stand together in the dimming light of the early evening, moving to the side of the road to lazily people watch.

The taller man suddenly turns to him with a mischievous look in his eyes a few minutes later, and motions to a building nearby.

Whatever he had expected the ex-trooper to say it wasn't what comes out of his mouth next.

“Wanna grab a drink?”

Jon snorts, shooting the man a lopsided grin. “Ya buyin’?”

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz does not panic when Jon doesn’t return in an hour.

He does not panic when his mechanic and the ex-trooper don’t return to the covert within two hours.

By the third hour, though, he and Din are pacing the hangar together.

When the fourth hour descends on the covert with no signs of Jon or Corin, he and the bounty hunter venture out into the quiet, darkened streets of the shopping district with every intention of bringing their men home.

Paz had never been much of a tracker, he hadn’t needed to hone that particular set of skills. His job in most battles was to cause as much mayhem with his blaster cannon as possible. He was used to being on the front-line, taking the brunt of the fire to cover his _vod’e_.

So, it is with a great deal of reluctance that he allows Din to lead him through the streets as the other Mandalorian uses the abilities he’d learned from years of bounty hunting to follow the trail left behind from the two men.

“They weren’t in any hurry,” he hears the other Mandalorian murmur under his breath.

The news settles the frazzled nerves in his mind. If the two weren’t in a rush, then it was likely they hadn’t run into trouble. At least, not yet.

Din leads them along a winding path until they are standing in front of a pub. On the outside it looks in better condition than the cantina he’d staked out while hunting for his mechanic’s father, but the Mandalorian knew looks could sometimes be deceiving.

He and Din share a glance, before he pushes through the door with the bounty hunter close on his heels. The interior of the building is in shambles, though most of the patrons appear completely unfazed by the state of the tavern. Paz stumbles to a stop as soon as his vision adjusts to the low light and he vaguely hears Din grunt in protest behind him.

Spotting Corin and Jon is easy enough. The two are leaning over a table with several empty bottles and glasses scattered around the floor. The two men are downing shots at such a rate that alcohol poisoning was a very real concern.

A groan catches his attention and Paz blinks down. There are three unconscious men laying sprawled out nearby, broken glass dusting the ground and each sported several deep cuts.

A barmaid was picking through one of the unknown men’s pockets, tucking any credits she finds into her apron before she straightens to eye the Mandalorians.

“If you’re here to cause trouble you and your friend can leave now,” she huffs, cocking a hip and crossing her arms over her chest.

“Trouble,” he hears Din question. A moment later the man appears at his side and freezes. “Corin?”

The ex-trooper’s head snaps around at his name and a massive grin spreads across his face at the sight of them. Jon cocks his own head towards the door and upon spotting Paz, actually _giggles_.

They are very clearly drunk, faces flushed and pupils dilated so wide barely any of the iris was visible. Paz glances at the amount of bottles at their feet.

By the stars, how were these two still cognizant?

The woman blinks over at the drunk men and tilts her head. “You know them?”

Jon grins up at the heavy gunner. “Yeah, he- he’s my _cyare_. _N-ner kar’ta_.”

“They’re gonna get married,” the ex-trooper slurs, dissolving into a fit of laughter at the end.

Paz moves closer to the table, stepping over the prone forms of the other… customers.

“Jon,” he calls.

The mechanic hums happily, tilting his head back to look up at the larger man and nearly toppling out of his chair in the process. The ex-trooper reaches across the table just quick enough to snag a handful of the man’s shirt and keeps a hold of the garment until the mechanic is able to steady himself.

“What happened here?”

“T-they _hit_ on us. Wouldn’t take no for an answer,” Corin butts in as he flails his arms out dramatically, causing several of the empty bottles still littering the table to wobble dangerously. “Can’t have that. H-he’s _taken_ and so am I. S-so, we sorta- argued?”

“Your- partners are surprisingly good at fighting while drunk off their asses,” the woman snorts, moving to another unconscious form to start rifling through his pockets. “Can’t say I blame them, though. These guys are always causing problems. Serves them right.”

“T-they’re ass- assholes. Not gonna let ‘em-,” Corin pauses, brows lowering as he hiccups. “What was I saying?”

Jon laughs. “Yer drunk thar’, buddy.”

“No no no no. No. You’re drunk,” Corin snickers.

“Yer drunk-”

“You’re both drunk,” Din calmly informs them, moving to stand next to the table. “I think it’s time to head back, _cyar’ika._ ”

“He called ya ‘darlin’,” the mechanic teases the ex-stormtrooper, whose only reply is to laugh harder and bow forward to press his head into the tabletop as he tries to catch his breath.

Paz chuckles, shaking his helm fondly. _“_ _Cyare_ _?_ Do you think you can walk?”

Jon looks up at him, unfocused eyes blinking owlishly. “Um-.”

“I'm going to take that as a 'no'.”

“I’m beginning to think your mechanic is a bad influence, _Alor’ad_ ,” the _beyora_ huffs as he’s helping Corin to his feet.

The trooper apparently takes offense to this, however, because he suddenly smacks the shorter Mandalorian in the back of his helmet.

“D-don’t talk ‘bout ‘im like that, Din. He- He’s my friend.”

“Love y-ya too, bud. Yer my best friend.”

The man freezes, turning wide eyes towards the mechanic. “B-best friend?”

“Yeah-.”

His beloved is flagging, barely able to keep his head up and his eyes have already drifted closed.

Paz reaches down to carefully lift the smaller man into his arms, Jon turns to press his face into the space under his helm almost immediately and sighs sleepily.

“Jon called me his- his best friend, Din,” Corin slurs, leaning heavily against the Mandalorian as they begin to move towards the exit.

“I heard, _cyare_ ,” the bounty hunter patiently states as he adjusts his hold on one of the ex-trooper’s arms.

Corin twists around to glance back at the heavy gunner causing Din to curse softly in Mando’a as he’s forced to shift his grip on the man.

“It’s good y-you killed his dad. Guy was a dick.”

Paz makes a strangled noise and Din nearly stumbles over his own feet.

“What,” the other Mandalorian hisses, shooting a look back at Paz. “You did what, Vizsla?!”

“I did what I had to, Djarin!”

“No no no,” Corin slurs, waving a hand over the bounty hunter’s visor to get the man’s attention. “It’s fine. T-this is finnnne. His dad was _bad_ , Din! H-he burned Jon an-and that’s bad.”

They manage to wrestle the heavily intoxicated trooper out onto the streets, Paz having to shift Jon a bit so he keep a hold of the mechanic with one arm and help Din steer Corin with the other.

“Burned,” Din questions the heavy gunner once they’re out of earshot of the bar.

He can hear the barely restrained anger slipping into the man’s tone.

“On h-his back,” Corin readily supplies, head rolling forward as he struggles to stay awake. “Poured wh- wishy- no that’s not right- w-whisky- whisky on ‘im and threw a- a- something at ‘im and- and that’s why he’s got scars.”

The _beyora_ tenses as the trooper continues to ramble and Paz clutches his jaw so hard that his teeth begin to ache.

A heavy silence falls over the group as they move through the streets, only stopping once when Corin turns a little green. The nausea passes quickly enough though and they continue on until the covert’s entrance comes into view.

Raga is waiting for them and steps out of the shadows to help Din maneuver the drunk man into the underground corridors.

Corin is making a valiant effort to stay conscious but it’s clear he’s losing the battle. Din decides to carry him into the _RazorCrest_ instead of attempting to make it to their room. It’s a good call because as soon as they get to the top of the ramp, the ex-trooper goes boneless and nearly brings Din and Raga down.

He leaves the hangar once he’s certain that his _vod’e_ have everything under control, breathing out a sigh of relief upon entering their shared room.

He gently places his mechanic on the bed and pauses.

Suddenly, he's unsure of himself.

Every time he’d undressed Jon in the sanctuary of their living space the mechanic had been conscious, had even been encouraging and readily given his blessing.

Now, however…

Paz looked down at the sleeping man and shifted uncomfortably before reaching out to pull Jon’s boots off. He hesitated over the man’s shirt until he noticed the multiple spots where he’d spilled a drink or two on himself then tugged that garment off too.

His hands carefully turn the man over, checking for any injuries the mechanic might have picked up during his pub brawl. He only finds a light bruise over the right side of Jon’s ribs, likely a cheap shot from one of the thugs. His _cyare_ curls up on his side afterwards, snoring softly, and the Mandalorian skims a large hand over the many scars decorating the man’s back.

Paz had known that how his mechanic had received his wounds had not been pleasant, but the Mandalorian hadn’t been aware that the… incident had been that bad.

Paz heaves a sigh. He doesn’t touch his mechanic’s pants, leaving them in place as he strips off his armor.

Last, Paz grabs a water canteen and some pain meds, placing them on the side table within easy reach of the bed.

The heavy gunner then crawls under the sheets, pulling the smaller body along with him and tucking the man’s head under his chin.

Jon grumbles something into his neck as he’s jostled and Paz merely shushes him as he runs one hand through those thick brown locks while the other spreads over Jon’s lower back, fingers tracing one scar after another.

“ _Nohoy, cyar’ika."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Di’kut- idiot  
> Vod’e- brothers/sisters  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Ner Kar’ta- My Heart  
> Cyar’ika- darling, sweetheart  
> Alor’ad- Captain  
> Nohoy, cyar’ika- Sleep, darling


	18. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paz takes a leap of faith. Jon and Corin suffer at the hands of a bad decision, also known as a hangover. The Alor has a talk with the covert's resident mechanic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Witness me!
> 
> Shout out to Wizardmoonwhisper, who is my muse, my love, ner kar'ta!
> 
> Also, check out the wonderful fan art of our two favorite idiots that Militia bestowed upon our eyes!

*~~*~~*~~*

Paz woke to the sound of a dying animal.

Wait, no.

That was Jon.

The heavy gunner cranes his head to look down at the smaller male, who had his face pressed firmly into the Mandalorian's chest. Another long, painful groan emits from the mechanic, and Paz winces in sympathy.

"You okay," he asks, keeping his tone low and quiet.

The brunette grunts out a reply. "Livin' hurts."

The larger man grimaces at the sound of his mechanic's voice, automatically reaching a hand up to carefully massage the man's scalp under the sleep-tangled hair. Jon melts at the touch, curling impossibly closer to the Mandalorian.

"If ya stop I will bite ya," the mechanic hoarsely mumbles, and Paz shivers at the feel of the man's breath ghosting over his exposed neck.

The room falls into a comfortable silence as the larger man continues to obediently run his fingers over Jon's head, occasionally his ministrations earn him a content little noise from his _cyare_. The heavy gunner wouldn’t mind spending the morning just relaxing under the light weight of his mechanic, the thought is very tempting. Especially with the way Jon snuggles closer and moves to rest his face against the larger man’s sternum. 

The mechanic is quiet for so long that the Mandalorian suspects the man might have fallen back asleep.

So, of course he nearly jumps out of his skin when the smaller man speaks up a moment later.

"Why do I still got my pants on?"

Paz hesitates a moment before answering. "You passed out last night so you couldn't-."

Jon makes a curious noise, rubbing his face against the Mandalorian’s bare chest and it’s enough to derail Paz’ train of thought.

"I cou'n't wha'?"

He clears his throat, mouth suddenly dry. "-You couldn't- give me permission?"

Jon slowly peels himself away from Paz' chest and squints up at him, eyes red-rimmed. He meets the smaller man's gaze through the visor and his chest feels tight.

He’ll never get tired of looking into those green eyes.

Suddenly, Jon shifts to straddle his hips and the Mandalorian chokes on his next breath. The mechanic slithers his body up to gently butt his forehead into the Beskar helm, and Paz lifts a hand to cradle the back of the man's neck, uncertain what brought this on. He wasn't going to start complaining, though.

Jon hums happily. "Ya know I love ya, right?"

A lump forms in his throat with those words, and the only thing he can do is nod shakily up at the man.

"Then ya should know by now tha' I trust ya, _cyar'ika_."

The heavy gunner brings his other hand up to hold the man's head more firmly to him, basking in this small moment until his mechanic winces when the dim light reflects off the Beskar helmet.

"There's pain meds on the side table," he murmurs softly.

Jon sighs when he pulls away, clearly unhappy with having to move, but still leans over to reach for the medication.

Paz sits up, hands lowering to wrap around those lean hips, keeping the mechanic steady. One of his hands drips down to give a light squeeze to one of Jon’s thighs that has the other man’s breath hitching.

Once the smaller male swallows down the pills and takes a long drag from the water canteen, the heavy gunner pulls him back into his lap. Jon settles back and makes to lean forward again, but the Mandalorian pulls back when an idea pops into his head.

“ _Cyare,_ close your eyes.”

Jon frowns, but there’s no hesitation when he follows the order and Paz marvels at the level of trust that’s being displayed.

The Mandalorian slowly reaches up, fingers dripping under the chin of his helm.

His mechanic shifts on his lap, tilting his head curiously, but keeps his eyes firmly shut.

Jon's brows furrow when he hears the hydraulic clamps hiss open and startles when the _buy'ce_ falls to the bed with a solid 'thump'.

"Paz?"

The heavy gunner brings one hand up to cup the side of the man’s face and leans forward to brush his nose against the mechanic's own. Jon gasps and he makes a concerned noise.

"Paz? Wha'-?"

"Keep them closed, _cyar'ika_."

He pulls the man closer, drawing Jon into a gentle brush of lips that had the man emitting a wounded sound from the back of his throat.

Paz tries to move back at the noise, fearing he'd taken things too far, but Jon brings both hands up to sink into his hair and surges forward.

The kiss is heated, fierce and so much better than anything the Mandalorian's imagination had been able to conjure up. He swipes his tongue over the man's lower lip, hoping to deepen it. The action has the mechanic’s jaw dropping open in surprise, and he wastes no time in licking into that warm mouth. Jon presses himself closer, wrapping his arms around Paz' neck and the noises the smaller man is making are positively sinful.

One of his hands slides up the smaller man's back, fingers carefully running over the various scars, and the reaction is immediate and beautiful. Jon gasps as his back arches, body both trying to evade those searching hands and pressing into the touch. When Paz presses into one of the more sensitive areas, Jon is forced to turn his head away, lungs heaving desperately for oxygen.

While he’s a bit disappointed that the smaller man had ended the kiss, it’s quickly forgotten once he glances past the mop of brunette hair. Paz is suddenly presented with the ultimate prize; the pale column of his mechanic's neck. The heavy gunner dips down to nose along his _cyare's_ collar, listening to the man's shuddering breath as he goes.

“What did you say before, _ner kar’ta?_ You were going to bite me?”

He can't help himself when he playfully scrapes his teeth over the smooth skin before him, and from the sounds of it Jon doesn't seem to mind.

"Paz- yer helm," the mechanic whimpers into his shoulder when the Mandalorian's teeth clamp down firmly. "I-is this okay?"

The larger man pulls back with a huff.

"Just keep your eyes closed for me, _cyar’ika_ ," he all but purrs into the smaller man's throat.

He feels Jon swallow and give a jerky nod into the junction of his own neck. Having been given the consent he sought, he dives back down.

Paz licks at the reddened patch of skin, soothes the area there before shifting his focus to a different spot. This time he bites down hard, growling around the flesh possessively, intending to leave a mark. His _cyare_ spasms in his arms, making a choked off sound that dissolves into a _keen_. The sound goes straight to his lower stomach and the Mandalorian makes a feral noise in response.

He slowly eases back after a moment, eyeing the darkening imprint of his teeth with hungry satisfaction. He wants nothing more than to continue this, but Jon is panting heavily from where he's gone limp against his chest and the smaller man’s well-being takes precedence over his own wants.

Paz runs a hand down the mechanic's flank and feels around the bed with the other until his fingers encounter his discarded helmet. Reluctantly, he pulls the _buy'ce_ back on, latches clicking back into place.

" _Cyar'ika?_ Talk to me."

Jon groans, body trembling just slightly against him. "Fuck- Paz-."

The man sounds absolutely wrecked and the heavy gunner preens proudly at that.

“Too much,” he asks, gently knocking the side of his helm against the man’s sweat drenched locks.

“Nah,” the mechanic replied, still sounding breathless. “ _Kandosii’la._ ”

Paz chuckles and gently pokes the man in the side until Jon huffs. The smaller male pulls back and glares up at the Mandalorian.

“I know you're comfortable, but we should get some food in you before you pass out on me again.”

“Tha’ was one time- in recent mem’ry,” Jon replies with a pout, but he still moves to climb off the bed.

The man sheds the rest of his clothes on the way to the refresher, and Paz feels absolutely no shame in ogling the expanse of skin on clear exhibit before the man disappears behind the door.

The Mandalorian stands to stretch out the knots in his back, before moving to collect his armor. A sudden squawk from the other room has him tensing though, helmet whipping around towards the source.

“Paz, _gar di’kut!_ It looks like ya mauled my neck!”

The heavy gunner snickers, and Jon must be able to hear him because a string of curses, mostly in Mando’a, are being thrown at him through the closed doorway.

Paz just laughs harder.

*~~*~~*~~*

The painkillers help with the headache, but the truly annoying symptom that persists with one of Jon’s hangovers is the nausea. It makes eating the breakfast Paz places in front of him extremely difficult, but he knows from experience that _not_ eating would only make things worse. This, coupled with his own sour memories of his childhood, is what keeps the mechanic from excessive drinking. Normally.

Though, he can’t say that last night wasn’t fun.

His neck gives a slight throb, the events of this morning playing over in his head.

Paz had taken off his helmet. In the same room as Jon.

The man had taken off his helmet, trusting in the smaller man to keep his word and not look.

The thought causes his stomach to flip violently, affection turning to nausea thanks to his hangover, and he pushes his plate away to clamp a hand over his mouth.

Paz immediately turns to him and Jon knows him well enough by now to know that the Mandalorian is watching him with no small amount of concern behind that visor.

He’s saved from having to answer any questions when Corin flops down in the seat across from him with a heartfelt, tormented groan. The stormtrooper leans forward heavily, allowing himself to face-plant into the cool surface of the table. His stomach, thankfully, calms enough to allow him to speak a few minutes later.

“Ya alright thar’, bud,” Jon asks, wincing at the scratchy sound of his own voice.

The ex-trooper lets out another whine, turning his head to the side to look up at Jon.

“Living hurts.”

Paz snorts from where he’s leaning back in the chair at Jon’s side. He’d shoot the man a glare, but the bite mark is still a little tender so he opts to kick the heavy gunner’s shin under the table instead.

Din, carrying the child, sets a plate down in front of Corin and the trooper pulls a face at the food, turning a little green.

“Try to eat something, _cyare_ ,” the bounty hunter huffs, a hint of amusement evident in his tone.

The ex-trooper pouts at the other Mandalorian before sighing and turning his attention back to his breakfast.

Jon is about to do the same thing, but Paz leans into his space to lightly bump his helmet against the top of his head. The mechanic grunts and turns slowly, conscience of the bruising lining his throat, to look up at the large Mandalorian. The larger man reaches out a gloved hand to trace the mark, sending a pleasant shiver down his spine.

“What the _kriff!"_

Jon yelps, head snapping around to look at the twins, who crowd into his personal space.

Kriff, when had they gotten back?

“What happened,” Azizos demands, leaning in closer to the smaller man.

“Wha’?”

“ _Vod_ , it looks like something was chewing on you.”

He ignores the way Paz seems to puff up with pride at the comment.

Instead, Jon glares up at the pair. “It’s nice ta see y’all too. How was yer mission? I’ve been okay, went drinkin’ last night with Corin- might have stabbed a guy in a pub- things are a little fuzzy-.”

“He deserved it,” the ex-trooper mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“Good ta know-.”

“Wha-,” Arsu trails off when the mechanic levels him with a flat look.

“Tha’s how ya greet someone when ya been gone fer a while. Y’all are rude.”

He moves to turn back to his food, but he can sense Din staring at him now. Jon purses his lips, suddenly he doesn't feel hungry anymore.

With a sigh, Jon pushes away from the table to stand.

“I’m gonna go work on the _Crest_ -.”

When Paz makes to follow him, he’s met with an unimpressed look from the smaller man.

“-I’m not sorry,” the heavy gunner states, completely unashamed.

The mechanic snorts and stomps off in the direction of the hangar.

Or, at least, he tries to.

“Not so fast, _vod’ika_ ,” Raga calls out as she steps into his path. “Our _Alor_ would like to speak to you.”

*~~*~~*~~*

The Matriarch is an opposing woman, not just for her golden helm and stature. Her very presence radiates authority and, upon entering the forge, Jon lowers himself to his knees as a sign of respect.

At first, the _Alor_ shows no sign of acknowledging him, simply continues to work on a piece of red hot metal, the sound of the Armorer’s hammer striking against the ingot fills the room. Only when she turns to shove the piece of armor into a pool of liquid to cool does her helmet finally tilt to glance at him.

“You aren’t normally this quiet. I was hoping you would help fill the silence.”

The mechanic blinks up, caught off guard by the humor seeping into the woman’s voice.

“I heard our _Alor’ad_ has proposed to you,” she continues, setting down her tools and stalking towards him.

She pauses in front of him, helm shifting to appraise him, then motions to a small table nearby.

“Ah, yeah. He did,” Jon confirms as he slowly climbs to his feet at the invitation.

“And I assume you agreed to the union.”

“Course I did.”

The _Alor_ hums, pleased at his response.

“Raga has been teaching you our language, correct?”

Jon nods, unsure where this line of questioning was going.

“She has told me you are making great progress, but what about reading in Mando’a?”

The mechanic lowers himself into one of the only two chairs within the room before replying. 

“Well, tha’s takin’ a little longer-.”

“Not surprising. Mando’a can be difficult, even for the best of us. It speaks well of you that you are going out of your way to learn it.”

“It’s important ta Paz so-.”

Jon trails off when a datapad is tossed in his direction, forcing him to scrabble to catch the device before it hits the ground. He lets out an irritated huff and glances over the information.

It looked like…

“Vows?”

“The _Mando'ade_ marriage rights. Practice them well, because you will be expected to recite them once you and the _Alor’ad_ next step into the forge.”

He inclines his head in thanks, and nearly startles when a finger gently presses into the dark bruise his Mandalorian had left behind.

“I did’t look-,” his protest is cut off by the sound of a good-natured chuckle from the Matriarch.

 _“Naak,_ I didn’t bring you here to criticize your relationship.”

“I also get the feelin’ I was’t brought here jus’ fer this,” the mechanic states, indicating the datapad in his hand. “No, offense.”

The woman hums an affirmative. “You managed to fix the Imperial blackbox.”

It’s not a question, because of course he had. It really hadn’t been as difficult as he had originally thought. There had been plenty of spare parts littering the hangar floor after his various maintenance rotations to use for this side project, but there was still a slight problem...

“Yeah, but-.”

The mechanic sighs, running a hand through his hair and grimacing when a finger catches on a knot.

“-I haven’t actually turned it on, _Alor._ Thar’s no way of knowin’ if it can send a signal out as well as receive one an’ if it can-.”

“It could reveal our location to any Imperial forces in this sector.”

Jon nods grimly and watches the woman pace away as she absorbs that information.

“Do you believe it could help us track our enemies?”

“Hard ta say without actually turnin’ it on. I made a few adjustments with tha' in mind though so it’s possible,” the mechanic explains with a shrug.

“I will have someone take the device off-world-.”

“With all due respect,” the man interrupts cautiously, almost expecting a reprimand, but the Matriarch merely tilts her helm to look at him curiously. “Thar’s no one here tha’d be able to shut the damn thing down quick ‘nough should things go- wonky.”

“No one, but you.”

The mechanic doesn’t respond. He doesn’t need to. They both know it’s true. There were several in the covert that had the skills to work on the vessels within the hangar, but none had his skill _and_ _speed._ His eyes lock onto the woman’s visor, waiting for her decision.

“The _Alor’ad_ mentioned you were _kotep_ and _jare’la_.”

Jon narrows his eyes at the Mandalorian. “I’ll hav’ta have a talk with him later ‘bout tha’.”

His mumbled threat earns a chuckle from the woman.

“You would be placing yourself at great risk should you take on this mission. You have no loyalty to prove-.”

“My loyalty is ta Paz and his- _ner aliit_. This covert is my home and I’ll defend it jus’ as sure as any who live here.”

The woman stares him down, but Jon holds her gaze with unwavering resolve, and no small part of sneer stubbornness.

The Mandalorian leader cocks a hip when he doesn’t back down.

“Non-Mandalorian partners are rare, not unheard of, but rare. Our people tend to forget that there are those out there that, though they do not wear the _buy’ce_ , still possess _Mandokarla.”_

The mechanic stares wide-eyed up at the women, a little stunned by her words.

She seems almost… impressed with her next words. “You will not go alone.”

“But I-.”

“Do you honestly believe your _cyare_ would let you go alone?”

“-No, no I do’t.”

“Then you _will_ take a small group with you should things go- awry. This is the way.”

By reflex, Jon recites the phrase back. The Matriarch turns her back to him with a wave of her hand.

Taking that as his dismissal, Jon rose and turned towards the exit, just barely catching the _Alor’s_ final words before the door hissed shut behind him.

“Remember your studies, Jon. I look forward to hearing you take the vow when next we meet.”

The mechanic lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding once he’s sure the golden helmeted woman wasn’t in earshot.

“ _Cyare?”_

Jon snaps his eyes up to glare at Paz.

“How was the meeting-.”

“So I’m _jare’la_ am I, _cyar’ika?”_

Paz freezes, helmet cocking to the side. “-Yes?”

“Ass,” the mechanic huffs.

“-Are you still mad about the bite? Because I didn’t hear you complaining at the time.”

Jon purses his lip and smacks the datapad the _Alor_ had given to him against the Mandalorian’s chestplate before moving down the corridor.

“Let’s go hav’a chat with Corin and his _beyora_. I got shit ta do- apparently _.”_

“Jon- What did the _Alor_ say? Wait- A-are these marriage vows?! JON?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyar’ika- darling, sweetheart  
> Cyare- beloved  
> Buy’ce- helmet  
> Ner Kar’ta- My heart  
> Kandosii’la- Stunning, amazing  
> Gar di’kut- You idiot  
> Vod- brother/sister  
> Alor- leader  
> Alor’ad- captain  
> Mando'ade- Mandalorians, sons and daughters of Mandalore  
> Naak- peace  
> Kotep- brave  
> Jare’la- stupidly oblivious of danger  
> Ner aliit- my family  
> Mandokarla- having “right stuff”, the epitome of Mando virtue - showing guts and spirit


	19. Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raga has plans. Din and Paz get left behind. Jon has some concerns.
> 
> Cara and Greef have no idea what the hell is happening.
> 
> The twins are, once again, just along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay on this chapter. Life happened then insomnia happened... again. I wouldn't recommend it.
> 
> Shout out to Wizardmoonwhisper who is the wind beneath my wings and the dealer of my commas.

“Do you think they’re going to be mad at us,” Corin wonders aloud, craning his head so he can see Jon’s feet sticking out from under the control paneling.

He’s lodging in one of the co-pilots' seats with his legs draped over the side, watching as the smaller man tinkers with the Imperial device and the wiring under the console. Raga hums from her spot at the controls as she idly flicks through different coordinates on screen, which is a non-answer.

“If they really wanted ta come ‘long then they shouldn’t have started fightin’ like two junkport akk dogs,” the mechanic mumbles, his voice muffled from his place inside the maintenance compartment.

Which was a fair point, Corin thinks. 

Their group had spent the better part of the morning getting Paz’ ship ready for launch, checking weapons and hauling up supplies. After Jon had explained what the _Alor_ expected of him, the others had all volunteered to come on the mission. Corin couldn’t decide if it was boredom that drove all five Mandalorians to jump at the opportunity or concern for the mechanic’s safety. After getting to know Jon, the trooper certainly wasn’t keen on letting the smaller man anywhere off-world without an armed escort.

Unfortunately, the _RazorCrest_ wasn’t an option in its current state, so they had settled on the next best thing. Apparently, Din had taken offense to the idea of using a ship other than his own and things had just gone downhill from there when Paz had called the bounty hunter an _utreekov_. The ex-trooper hadn’t had the heart to remind the shorter Mandalorian that one of the _Crest’s_ engines was in _pieces_ and, therefore, not in any shape to go… well, anywhere.

Raga had watched the argument escalate between Paz and Din from her place leaning against one of the vessel’s supports before silently ushering Jon, Corin, and the twins aboard.

The ex-trooper was easily able to pass the child over to his Mandalorian without the man even taking a pause in his bickering with the heavy gunner. Once Din had pulled the kid close to his chest, Corin had slipped away with a little departing wave to the toddler.

He hadn’t liked the idea of taking the little guy with them on a possibly dangerous mission anyway, so leaving him behind with his dad seemed like a good idea.

Corin had actually been surprised that he had been able to follow the others onto the ship, close the hatch, and help Raga power up the engines before either of the arguing warriors took notice. The bounty hunter was usually a lot more aware of his surroundings than that.

He wasn’t going to lie though. Watching Paz and Din turn at the sound of the engines firing up and staring silently after the ship while the child waved at their departure for his place in the bounty hunters arms in the viewfinder had been comical.

“So, what’s the plan exactly?”

Raga tilts her head towards the mechanic at his question and Corin turns his attention back to his friend as well.

Sounds of scraping tools and a string of curses erupt from under the panel and a second later a disheveled Jon reappears, holding a monstrosity of scavenged parts in his hands. There are bits of wiring and metal shavings stuck in his hair that go flying when he gives himself a little shake before rocking back on his heels to peer up at the two of them.

“Pretty simple. I jus’ got done hookin’ this box inta tha nav-system so now we got ta do a sweep of tha sector. It should pick up any Imps in tha area, hopefully, without givin’ us away. So long as my scrambler is workin’, tha’ is,” the smaller male nods towards the tangle of cords around him before continuing. “If they happen ta ping us, though, I made a failsafe.”

Jon throws a smirk in his direction and holds up his prize for them to see. Several of the wires, from what the ex-trooper recognizes as the navigation system, had been spliced into the device. It’s not pretty, but Corin understands why when he tracks the cables towards their source. Jon had not only spliced cables into the Imperial tech, but had also created different routes for the power and connections to the ship as a whole, making the thing resemble an unraveling ball of yarn.

“You could just yank the whole damn thing out without causing damage to the rest of the ship,” he mutters, once again impressed by the mechanic’s skills.

If only he put as much thought into his own well-being. Granted, the ex-trooper supposes he doesn’t have much room to talk.

Still, there was something off about this.

Jon’s grin stretches wider and preens at the admiration in Corin’s voice.

“How do you know how to fix Imperial tech anyway? You seem pretty familiar with it.”

The mechanic's expression shutters closed in an instant at the question, back going ramrod straight.

“He was an Imperial supporter,” Jon mumbles, eyes carefully focusing on a few stray pieces of scrap scattered around him. “Used ta have crap like this lying ‘round the house.”

The ex-trooper does need to ask who ‘he’ is. By now, he and the rest of the covert had come to hate the man that had called himself Jon’s father.

The mechanic gives an impassive one-armed shrug at his silence. “Always told me he’d sell me off ta tha Imps once I was old ‘nough. Then maybe I’d ‘be useful fer somethin’.’”

Raga clears her throat and the atmosphere in the cabin lightens. Corin releases the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and Jon’s shoulders relax when he turns to the woman.

“Well that, at least, saves us from having to worry about them following us back, but we still need to find an area for your little- experiment,” the Mandalorian states, turning her helmet back towards the list of possible nav-points in the ship’s log. “It needs to be somewhere a good distance away from the covert, but an area that’s still under the surveillance of the Empire.”

“Wha’ ‘bout tha’ dust ball o’ a planet where tha tribe’s last hideout was?”

“Ortix was a good temporary shelter, however, after the Imperial attack, and the covert’s escape, I can only assume they’ve upped the amount of patrols in that sector,” Raga hums. “We don’t need that kind of heat.”

Corin leans his head back in thought. He was still learning how to read star charts and nav-points, so he wasn’t sure how much help he could be, but suddenly he remembers a communication Din had gotten before they’d managed to reunite with his people.

“Nevarro.”

The female Mandalorian stiffens at the name, twisting around in her seat to stare back at him. Jon spares a look of concern at the warrior before he looks up at the ex-trooper, head tilting in confusion.

“Din’s been in contact with Cara. She’s still there helping Greef rebuild and acting as a bouncer, or bodyguard to him, at the guild’s new cantina,” he explained. “She wasn’t really clear on which it was. They’ve both said that the patrols have lessened, but there are still sweeps being done on an almost weekly basis.”

Raga hums. “They’re still looking for us.”

“Yes, but they’re pulling back. Less and less ships in the air, less and less troopers being spotted on the ground. They’re already stretched pretty thin, so the people up top are pulling resources from those sent to monitor the planet. Helps that those resettling on the world aren’t exactly- welcoming to the Empire.”

Corin watches as the Manadalorian slowly turns back around in the captain’s seat and reaches over to bring up the coordinates on the nav-system. The cabin goes quiet, the only sounds coming from the distance voices of the twins filtering up from the cargo hold and the occasional noise from the controls.

“What do you think, _vod?”_

Jon snorts at the question, tossing his head back in an attempt to get his fringe out of his face while his hands idly toy with some spare wiring.

“Paz and Din are gonna be so mad-.”

“Yeah-,” Corin breaths out, feeling a smirk beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.

“-But causin’ some problems fer tha Imps sounds like a pretty good way ta kick off a bachelor party.”

The ex-trooper allows a manic little grin to break out across his face at those words and Raga chuckles fondly as she plots their course.

“Have I told you that you’re my favorite, Jon,” the Mandalorian asks, her tone dripping with amusement.

“Not taday.”

“Well, you’re my favorite. Corin, you’re my second favorite. Don’t tell the others.”

“Ya want me ta keep a secret? Have ya met me,” the mechanic asks, throwing the armored warrior a deadpan expression.

“Din isn’t going to talk to me for a week after this,” the ex-trooper laughs.

Raga huffs and turns her helm to look back at the ex-imperial.

“Send a message ahead to Dune and Karga. Let them know we’ll be seeing them soon and Jon-.”

The mechanic makes a curious little noise, tilting his head towards the Mandalorian.

“-Get ready to turn that thing on as soon as we’re near Nevarro. If it doesn’t immediately give us away, we’ll make a stop planetside.”

Corin frowns. “Why?”

Raga snickers. “My _vod_ wants a bachelor party so he’s going to get one.”

Jon shares a nervous glance with the trooper before eyeing the woman in the captain’s seat.

“Ya know I was kiddin’ ‘bout tha’, right?”

Raga doesn’t reply, merely turns back to watch the stars fall away as the vessel makes the jump to hyperspace.

*~~*~~*~~*

Cara Dune is shocked when she receives a ping from Corin. Only Corin. The message doesn’t say anything about the child or Din, which makes her stomach twist with anxiety.

Had the small family been attacked? Was the child safe? Was Din…?

She’s startled out of her thoughts when Greef slides into the other side of the booth. The guild leader has a shit-eating grin on his face and two drinks in his hands, but upon seeing her face, the smile instantly drops.

“What,” he demands, placing one of the glasses in front of her.

Cara wordlessly passes over the missive and reaches for the drink, downing it in one shot then watches as the man reads over the message.

“Okay, this- this might not be bad, Cara.”

“If it’s not bad then why isn’t it Din sending me the com?”

Karga winces and takes a large pull from his own glass. “Panicking isn’t going to help us here.”

The shocktrooper sighs, running a hand over her face. “I know.”

“We’ll just have to be ready for whatever trouble they’ve gotten themselves into,” Greef calmly states, but she can see the sweat forming on his brow. 

“We?”

The guild leader levels the woman with an unimpressed look. “We. I’m not going to let my best bounty hunter die on me.”

Cara snorts, but there’s no real humor behind it.

*~~*~~*~~*

Nearly half a cycle later, Cara is ready to start shooting something. The others ‘patrons’ in the guild cantina must be able to sense her foul mood because every single one of them is going out of their way not to piss her off, some going so far as to not even look in her general direction.

For his part, Greef had tried to keep busy by handing out bounties, but he was getting increasingly short tempered with anyone that dared complain about the slim pickings.

Night was just beginning to descend on the town when the shocktrooper’s commlink pinged again.

Her head snaps up to lock eyes with Karga across the room and the pair immediately move towards the exit.

Once they’re outside and slip down an isolated alleyway, the man rounds on Cara.

“Well,” Greef asks, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot.

She skims over the message, brows drawing down in concern when she, again, finds no mention of her Mandalorian friend or his son.

“He should land in the next half hour.”

“Nothing about Din or the kid?”

Cara frowns, shaking her head.

“Kriff,” Karga hisses out, twisting around to kick the stone wall behind him in frustration. “I thought they were gonna go find the other Mandos-.”

“Covert.”

“Whatever! Point is; why in the name of the stars are they coming back here?!”

They both fall quiet as the question hangs over their heads and the shocktrooper releases a drawn out sigh.

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

Karga huffs, his frustration evident in his tone, and stomps off towards the fueling port.

Cara falls in line behind him. They don’t stick to the shadows or take a roundabout detour to their destination. They don’t have to. Since the firefight, and the covert’s escape from the Imperial forces, the town had been nearly freed of the Imperial’s grip. Only a few remained, small groups of stranglers mostly, but they were rarely spotted on the surface. Anyone that was left behind and still loyal to the dying Empire were smart enough to know what would happen if they were caught out in the open.

She and Greef make it to the depot in record time and something heavy settles in her gut when she doesn’t spot the _RazorCrest_ , but a different vessel entirely. She double checks the hangar number Corin had sent her and spares a worried look with the guild leader as the ramp begins to lower.

The outer door hisses open and Cara cocks her head as a new face barrels out of the ship a moment later. Or, at least, tries to. A female Mandalorian snatches the back of the small human’s shirt and yanks the man back, her helmet firmly pointing towards Dune and Karga. Two more Mandos step into view wearing identical armor, their body language tense and guarded. The armored warriors look vaguely familiar, but Cara hadn’t gotten to know the covert well enough during the battle to recall any names to go along with the helmets.

Corin appears a moment later, a smile plastered to his face as he jogs down the ramp to greet them.

“Hey, Cara. Greef-.”

“Where’s Din and the kid?!”

“Wait- what?”

“Are they okay? Are they with you? What happened?”

Corin looks a little stunned and overwhelmed by Greef’s onslaught of questions. He blinks owlishly at them, tilting his head to the side and frowning at the guild leader’s distress.

“They-.”

“And who in the stars are they,” the older man demands, one arm flailing in the direction of the ship.

“Someone’s a bit dramatic,” the smaller man mumbles in an accent the shocktrooper can’t quite place.

Cara eyes him, watching as all three Mandalorians bristle at her attention. While the Mandos appeared warily, the guy looked rather comfortable and relaxed standing in their midst.

“Din and adi’ika are both back with the tribe,” Corin states, still sounding a little confused. “They’re fine- well, Din is probably gonna be mad when we get back- and Paz is definitely gonna be upset.”

The name ‘Paz’ rings a bell, memories from the Imp attack suddenly coming to the surface. The heavy gunner was certainly not someone she could easily forget.

“Why would he be angry,” the shocktrooper asks, ignoring the sour expression Greef sends her way.

“He doesn’t really like to let Jon out of his sight for too long.”

“-Who’s Jon?”

“Tha’d be me,” ‘Jon’ calls out, waving from his place next to the Mandos.

Cara blinks. “Paz- that’s the big guy, right,” she asked slowly. “In the blue armor?”

“Wait, the Mando with the huge blaster cannon,” Karga pipes in, brows nearly reaching his hairline.

“Yeah,” the ex-trooper replies with a shrug. “Jon’s his fiance.”

Her brain screeches to a halt, eyes widening and Greef makes a choking sound.

“What the hell is happening,” Cara mumbles.

“Short answer is: Jon hooked up some Imp tech to our ship and activated it while we were in orbit. It did its job of plugging us into their network, but we might have gotten their attention so we need to lay low,” the stormtrooper states with an air of complete acceptance.

“Din let you do this? He agreed to this plan?”

“I didn’t ask, Cara.”

“We good,” Jon asks, wandering over to stand next to the ex-imperial.

The shocktrooper watches as the two Mandalorians in identical armor take points at each of the man’s sides and the female brings up the rear. She doesn’t need to see their faces to know that both Karga and herself were being studied.

The protective vibe these Mandalorians were giving off was really throwing her for a loop. Who the hell was this ‘Jon’ guy?

“You think you got anyone’s attention with that thing, Jon,” Corin asks the man.

The brunette gives a little one-armed shrug and runs a hand through his hair.

“Pro’bly not.”

“Probably?”

“-I’m takin’ tha fact tha’ no one has started shootin’ at us as a good sign.”

“-That’s fair, I guess.”

“Well, if that’s the case then we can focus on the real reason we landed on this dust ball of a planet,” the female warrior states, reaching out a hand to tug on Jon’s collar, pulling the man back behind her. “I did promise you a bachelor party, after all.”

“I get the feelin’ tha’ I’m not gonna enjoy this.”

“Maybe she’s thinking of taking you to a strip club.”

The mechanic narrows his eyes at Corin.

“I thought you were s’pposed on my side. ‘Sides, jus’ lookin’ at this planet makes me think I’d pro’bly catch somethin’.”

“Boys, boys. Please. You’re thinking too small,” the Mando laughs.

*~~*~~*~~*

It’s nearly three cycles later before his ship reappears on their scanners. Paz should know. He and Din had both been taking shifts to monitor the covert’s long-range sensors. Once they're sure it’s his vessel breaking orbit and heading towards the tribe’s location, the two Mandalorians rush to the hangar.

The ship doesn’t show any signs of battle, which the heavy gunner takes a good sign.

The pair wait anxiously as the ramp lowers and the outer doors open to reveal…

Raga.

The woman saunters off the ship with the aura of a loth cat that got the cream.

She steps right up to the two of them, cocks a hip and swings one arm up to hold out a case.

Paz blinks down at thing in confusion.

“Your wedding gift. Of course, you will be expected to put some aside for the foundlings. This is the way.”

The larger Mandalorian carefully reaches a hand out to take the small case from his _vod_. When he opens it he does a double take. There’s 4 bars of Beskar sitting within, all with the Imperial mark melted into them. Next to him, Din makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

“This is the way,” he numbly recites, completely stunned by the gift. “Where did you get this?”

When the woman speaks, Paz can just hear the smirk in her voice. “We cleared Nevarro of any remaining Imperial forces. Wasn’t hard. There weren't that many left.”

“Where’s Corin,” the bounty hunter at his side snarls.

At that moment, the ex-trooper and his mechanic stumble off the ship. The twins follow them down the ramp and something doesn’t seem right about this. Paz glances over the two men, noting the grime and shallow cuts covering most of them, and Jon is suspiciously missing his shirt, but they seem in good spirits.

Too good of spirits actually…

“Are you drunk,” Paz asks, reaching a hand out to steady his mechanic when the man walks head first into his chest.

The question gets a muffled giggle from where Jon has his face pressed into his armor. “Yeah.”

“-Where’s your shirt?”

Jon blinks up at him, then looks down at himself. “Huh. I do’t rightly know.”

“It caught on fire,” Corin helpfully supplies, leaning most of his weight on Din once he’s stepped close enough to the Mandalorian.

“Oh, right. Raga says I’m not ‘llowed ta play with explosives ‘gain.”

“Explosives-,” Paz repeats back, sharing a look with Din before turning to the woman in question.

Raga shrugs innocently at their accusatory stares. 

“Yup,”Jon happily chirps.

“-Did you use the explosives before or after you started drinking?”

“-Tha’ would depend.”

“On what,” the heavy gunner asks, crossing his arms over his chest and staring down at the man.

“Would ya be angier if I drank ‘fore playin’ with ‘em?”

“-Yes.”

“Then I definitely got drunk after.”

“I’m a witness,” the ex-trooper chimes in, giggling into Din’s shoulder. “He was definitely completely somber when he blew the Imp stronghold sky high.”

That has Paz pausing and the bounty hunter heaving a bone-deep, tired sigh.

“My _vod_ asked for a party and he got a party fit for a Mandalorian,” Raga states, sounding extremely proud of herself.

The woman turns on her heel then and marches off to help the twins unpack the ship, but not before calling out to the _beyora_ over her shoulder.

“Cara and Greef say ‘hi’.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> utreekov- fool, idiot  
> Alor- leader  
> vod- brother/sister


	20. Premonitions and Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ni kelir mar’eyir gar, ner riduur,” he whispers softly and Jon’s answering laugh trails off into a wet hiccuping sound.
> 
> “I’m countin’ on it, big guy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to apologize for the delay. I wrote and re-wrote this chapter several times over until I was happy with the end result, but man, did it take a while to get here.
> 
> Second, no this is not the end. I am planning on continuing this, but I didn't want this to become 50 chapters. (Not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just not my style.)
> 
> Third, I want to thank everyone that has read and commented on my story. I live for those lovely messages!
> 
> Last, but not least, thank you to my beta reader, WizardMoonwhisper, without whom there would be a lot less commas in this thing.

Jon doesn’t have lucid dreams very often.

But he hates when it happens every kriffing time.

His aren’t the type of lucid dreams he’d heard his old co-workers talk about. The type where you held all the power the moment you realized what you were experiencing. When you could create and destroy a fantasy at the snap of your fingers.

Jon doesn’t have lucid dreams very often.

But when he does, he holds no power in them. He can only watch as his mind twists his memories and fears into something that leaves him shaking in the fetal position for hours.

He isn’t sure which is worse.

Knowing he’s a prisoner within his own mind or waking from a nightmare he could barely remember.

If he had to choose, he would probably pick a normal night terror of his old man over this.

But that’s the problem.

He never gets a choice.

*~~*~~*~~*

_He knows this isn’t real the moment his eyes snap open._

_The mechanic is lying face down in the middle of the hangar and there’s an intense heat at his back. It’s so hot that the blind panic he feels causes him to scramble up onto his knees, hoping to crawl away as quickly as his batter form can manage._

_That’s the second detail Jon notices. He’s been through the wringer. His body is covered in dirt and gore. Some of it his own and some…_

Paz… where’s Paz?

_He gags at the smoke filling his lungs, but forces himself to look up and squint past the tears in his eyes._

_The covert is a hellscape._

_The fleet is on fire, bodies lay motionless around him, and he can hear screaming in the distance further down the tunnels._

It’s a dream. This is just a dream. Wake up.

_Jon can’t stop his head from swiveling around as he hears a noise from the other side of the room._

_He knows what he’ll find, but that simple knowledge doesn’t soften the blow._

_His Mandalorian’s helm rests about a meter from him. The blue Beskar seems to glow with the light from a ring of flames surrounding it and a sob is ripped from his chest at the sight._

_His vision blurs with a fresh wave of tears and suddenly he’s reaching out._

_The mechanic can feel the flames licking at his hands, can even pick up the smell of burning flesh, but whatever physical pain the fires may bring it’s nothing in comparison to this._

He wants to die. Please just let this be over. Please just let him die.

_As he cradles the helmet of his fallen beloved in his arms, he suddenly spots movement in the corner of his eye._

_Jon has heard stories and descriptions about the man who put a bounty on Din’s child, but he’s never actually seen the Imperial in person._

_But as he stares up at this monster his mind has somehow cobbled together, something tells him this is the fabled Moff Gideon._

_The dark skinned Imp smirks down at him and slowly raises one of his hands. Held within his palm is the device that had been scavenged from the downed Imperial vessel that had nearly ended his life._

_His heart stops._

_“You did well,” Gideon chuckles, voice echoing amongst the destruction around them._

He… He brought them here.

_He doesn’t register when the Moff extends his other arm, as the man ignites the darksaber._

Jon brought the Empire to the covert.

_Gideon steps forward, arm raised and poised to strike._

_“Your father would be very proud.”_

*~~*~~*~~*

Jon wakes with a blood curdling scream and the taste of ashes lingering on the back of his tongue.

He doesn’t have time to panic over the fact that he’s in their bed alone, because he can hear Paz venomously curse behind the door of the ‘fresher. The larger man nearly rips the door right off its hinges and strides into their shared room, completely nude save his helmet, with a blaster raised.

“Jon, what-”

Whatever else the Mandalorian asks is drowned out by the sound of the mechanic’s own blood rushing in his ears. He claws at the blankets pooled in his lap, suddenly feeling claustrophobic under the heavy fabric.

The smaller man doesn’t remember crossing the room, he’s only aware of it when his arms wrap around the other man and his face is pressed into the bare chest of his beloved.

_“Cyar’ika?”_

He wants to answer, wants to tell Paz he’s okay. It was just a dream. There’s no reason to be concerned.

 _But that isn’t exactly true, is it?_ His treacherous brain whispers.

He releases an agonized sob into the crook of Paz’ neck and the response is immediate. The larger man gathers him into his arms, curling his own body over as though the Mandalorian was trying to shield him from the rest of the world.

It makes him feel protected and safe, but it can’t ease the unsteady way his gut twists at the memory of fire, and ash, and blaster rounds within their home.

Most of his dreams or night terrors fade from his mind come morning.

This one stays. He can feel it prowling in the dark recesses of his brain like a caged Nexu beast.

 _Was that really just a dream?_ His mind wonders.

The mechanic finds he doesn’t want the answer to that question.

*~~*~~*~~*

It takes a while to pry himself away from his Mandalorian, even Paz seems reluctant to let him go once Jon's able to form words again, and finally tells him the whole story.

A quick trip to the refresher and a warm breakfast surrounded by the rest of the tribe is almost enough to clear his mind of the unsettling images that had been playing on loop in his mind since he woke up.

That is until Din, Corin, and the child finally make an appearance.

They settle into the seat on the other side of the table and immediately the two Beskar clad men begin bickering about something. The ex-trooper rolls his eyes at the behavior, but there’s a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he watches the two fight.

Jon is nearly pulled into the quickly heating exchange between the two Mandalorians when he feels a sharp _tug_ at the back of his skull. The mechanic’s eyes snap over to the green toddler, who has his own huge dark eyes locked on the smaller male.

His brows furrow in confusion until…

_There’s smoke clogging his throat and heat at his back. Blaster rounds echo in the halls and with each shot another scream is cut off..._

It feels like all of the air in his lungs has been suddenly, and forcibly expelled. His heart rate spikes as the kid tilts its head to the side, large ears twitching. Then a tiny clawed hand reaches out, a push against his breast bone.

The small man is on his feet and moving towards the hangar a split second later.

Jon hears the screech of chairs moving behind him, hears Paz calling out to him.

But he doesn’t stop.

 _Was that really just a dream?_ His mind had wondered.

No.

It was a warning.

*~~*~~*~~*

_Oh, fuck._

“No, no, no, no,” Jon begged frantically as he flung himself to the floor of the ship.

His wide eyes scanned over the device still hooked into the navigation system of Paz’ ship. The navigation system that should have been shut down when they had landed back in the covert yesterday. The navigation system that was still definitely _on_.

The mechanic squeezed his eyes shut, racking his brain, but the details were fuzzy. Memories corrupted by too much adrenaline and alcohol.

_Please just be a hallucination. Please, please._

When he looked up a moment later a whimper wormed its way out of his throat.

It was real.

They hadn’t completely shut down the power to the vessel.

Standing on shaky legs, Jon’s hand flew over the control panel as he brought the other systems to life. One monitor brought up a clear image of their sector and for one blissful moment nothing happened.

Then… ships. Four medium signatures appeared on the map, one at a time. His breath catching painfully in his throat when he recognized the ships for what they were; Imperial gunships.

His modifications were doing their part though in scattering the signal, thus hiding their location, if the projected courses of those warships were anything to go by.

_But how long would that last?_

With a twist of his gut, the mechanic realized he didn’t know.

He had no kriffing clue how long it would take for the Imps to actually crack his code and pinpoint the tribes home.

Releasing a pained noise, Jon pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

_Please, let this be a dream. Just a bad dream._

But this was real. Painfully, horribly real.

He had endangered the covert.

This was his fault.

_The empty Beskar helm stares back at him from the floor of the hangar. He can taste copper in his mouth as he screams..._

With a snarl Jon jerked his palms away from his face and moved to the captain’s seat.

This was his fault. So, he was the one that would have to fix.

Paz had protected him, cared for him. That man and those within these tunnels were his family and he would not let the Empire take that from him.

With numb hands, the mechanic started powering the rest of the ship up. Glancing out the front viewing port revealed no one else had taken notice. Unsurprisingly, most Mandalorians were used to him fiddle with one system or another.

He’d get as far from the tribe as possible and dump the damn, cursed thing into the nearest lava flow he could find… or maybe toss it into the sea of some ice planet.

He hesitates over a button for a split second, but a quick look at the nav-map solidified his resolve. The faint hiss of the outer door closing cut off the questioning yelp from Paz.

That’s right. The Mandalorian had probably followed him after his sudden departure from the dining hall earlier.

A dull banging sound drifted up from the cargo hold. He can just make out Din and Corin’s voices, along with his _cyare,_ crying out on the other side.

_Jon?! Are you okay? Jon!_

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, flicking a switch.

There’s the sound of boots scrambling to climb off the ramp and then the vessel shudders faintly as it clicks into place.

There’s more yelling outside now, but he can’t make out the words.

With one final check of the systems Jon ignates the engines.

The Empire cannot have them. He’d rather die than allow that to happen.

_I’m so sorry, Paz._

*~~*~~*~~*

This is a fucking nightmare.

That’s the only coherent thought in his head as he numbly watches his ship, and his mechanic, fly out of the hangar. A heavy weight settles in his chest as he watches the vessel disappear.

Then he’s moving, limbs on autopilot as he makes for the RazorCrest. He hears Corin and Din behind him, but his vision is tunneling. He can’t think.

The ship is still a wreck, just a more organized wreck thanks to his _cyar’ika._

He stumbles into the cockpit, nearly ripping one of the chairs from where it’s bolted down when he realizes the controls haven’t been completely reassembled.

Paz slumps in the pilot’s seat, a sob clawing at his throat.

He’s spiraling.

He’s been around Jon long enough, comforted the man through his own panic attacks to realize this, but it doesn’t help ease the shaking in his hands.

The heavy gunner doesn’t hear when the two other men crowd into the room, doesn’t hear when the bounty hunter calls out to him.

What he does hear is the light ping of a received communication.

Corin, bless him, reaches patiently around him to flip a switch and suddenly the cabin is filled with the ambient sound of engines and an air filtration system.

“-Paz.”

The large Mandalorian leans forward with a gasp at the sound of his beloved voice.

“Jon, w-what’s going on? Please, come back. I- Did I do som-,” he whimpers.

He’s begging in front of Din, the last person he wants to see him like this, but if it gets his mechanic to come back to the covert- to him- then he’ll beg on his kriffing knees.

“-Paz-”

“Please, come back-”

“This is my fault,” Jon whispers. “I was too drunk ta realize tha ship hadn’t been shut down-”

“What are you-”

“Tha Imp tech, _cyare_ ,” his mechanic states so quietly that he has to lean forward in the chair to hear. “They know it’s here in tha sector. They haven’t cracked it yet, but I-I do’t know-”

“Come back. We’ll figure this out-”

“No,” Jon says, voice surprisingly steady. “Ya know I can’t do tha’, big guy.”

“Jon-”

“I _can’t_ let ‘em find ya. Can’t let ‘em find my family.”

“ _Ner kar’ta-_ ”

The next words filtering in over the commlink pulls a strangled noise from Paz’ chest.

_“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde.”_

The Mandalorian tips forward, helmet clicking softly against the metal of the control panel, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps.

“Paz,” Jon asks, voice becoming faint as static begins to over take the comm.

The ship is leaving the atmosphere, the signal is getting weaker.

 _“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde,”_ he’s barely able to get through the vow, voice catching on a few words as he desperately tries to hold back his tears.

 _“Ni kelir mar’eyir gar, ner riduur,”_ he whispers softly and Jon’s answering laugh trails off into a wet hiccuping sound.

“I’m countin’ on it, big guy.”

“Jon-”

“I love y-.”

The signal cuts out. Only the sound of static remains in the wake of Jon’s half formed sentence.

“I can have the RazorCrest in the air in two hours,” Din mumbles behind him. “Jon- he made great headway with everything so-.”

“Make it one hour,” Paz snarls, the bounty hunter gives a stiff nod in reply.

“Paz-,” Corin starts, but trails off when the heavy gunner shakes his helm.

“Don’t. Please just don’t, vod. I-I can’t-.”

The ex-trooper hesitates then reaches out to squeeze one of his pauldrons.

“He did this for you- for all of us. We’ll get him back.”

_Ni kelir mar’eyir gar, ner riduur._

Paz has never failed to keep a promise.

And he does not intend to start now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyare- beloved  
> Cyar’ika- darling, sweetheart  
> Ner kar’ta- my heart  
> Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar’tome, mhi me’dinui an, mhi ba’juri verde- We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors  
> Ni kelir mar’eyir gar, ner riduur- I will find you, my spouse  
> Vod- brother/sister


End file.
